Star Trek: Voyager - 043 - Acts of Contrition

by Kirsten Beyer

  “Thank you, Admiral. I have no doubt that this will be the first of many productive initiatives between my people and yours.”

  “I certainly hope so, Presider.”

  DEMETER

  Fife and Brill reported to the bridge immediately upon their return from Vitrum.

  Commander O’Donnell rose from the center seat, ordering, “My ready room, Commander Fife.”

  With a nod, Fife complied, following the captain to the small office just off Demeter’s bridge. Before O’Donnell could speak, Fife said, “You don’t have to explain, sir. I understand what you did down there.”

  “Did it work?” O’Donnell asked.

  Fife shrugged. “Hent was horrified by the thought of offering aid to the people we found there. I have a feeling that the circumstances of the people of Vitrum aren’t widely known among the Confederacy. Hent’s men were pretty upset by what they saw and wanted to help.”

  “They won’t be allowed to. But it’s a start,” O’Donnell said, smiling mischievously.

  “Due respect, sir, was there a class I missed at the Academy about inciting mutinies?” Fife asked. “Because you’re awfully good at it.”

  O’Donnell’s smile gave way to laughter. “Watch and learn, Atlee.”

  “Captain O’Donnell to the bridge.”

  “We’re on our way, Vincent,” O’Donnell replied.

  When he crossed the threshold, the captain was surprised to see the face of Overseer Bralt on the main viewscreen.

  “Commander O’Donnell.”

  “How can I help you, Overseer Bralt?” O’Donnell asked congenially.

  “Our tour of Vitrum has concluded and we are ready to escort you back to the First World.”

  “Very good,” O’Donnell said. “If you’ll transmit our course to Ensign Vincent, we’ll be under way.”

  “Before we go, I have a question for you,” Bralt said uncertainly.

  “Ask away.”

  “In the absence of a formal alliance between our people, I understand that your options in terms of offering aid to Vitrum are limited,” Bralt began.

  “They are nonexistent,” O’Donnell corrected him.

  “The people of Vitrum are considering severing their relationship with the Confederacy.”

  All traces of levity fled from O’Donnell’s face. Such a revelation from the overseer was unexpected, to say the least.

  “Not on our account?” O’Donnell asked.

  Bralt did not answer his question. “Should their severance be approved, would your vessel be willing or able to provide the relief these people require, including supplies and your expertise in helping them to restore their land to productivity?”

  “With Admiral Janeway’s approval,” O’Donnell replied. “But that would not be forthcoming unless she was assured by your diplomats that rendering such aid would not be considered an affront to the Confederacy.”

  Bralt’s teeth protruded ever so slightly.

  “So that’s a ‘yes’?”

  “A qualified one,” O’Donnell replied.

  The viewscreen shifted abruptly to its previous view of Vitrum hanging below them.

  “What happened?” Fife demanded of Vincent at ops before O’Donnell had the chance.

  “They closed the channel, sir,” Vincent replied.

  O’Donnell turned to Fife. Both were equal parts puzzled and concerned. It was Fife who acted first on that concern.

  “Take us to yellow alert,” Fife ordered.

  “You don’t think . . .” O’Donnell began.

  Before he could finish that statement, however, Demeter rocked subtly beneath their feet and eyes darted all around the bridge as four armed CIF officers appeared to move through the bulkheads and settle on the small bridge, their weapons raised.

  Had O’Donnell not already witnessed a version of this while in orbit of the Ark Planet, he might have been mystified. As it was, he was merely disappointed.

  EC Hent, who had led the team, said in a cold, clear voice, “Do not move from your stations. The Confederacy Interstellar Fleet hereby seizes this vessel for suborning treason on a Confederacy world.”

  Turning to Fife, O’Donnell said, “Atlee, the bridge is yours.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Fife said. “Will you be retiring to your quarters for the duration?”

  “Oh, I think I’d like to see this,” O’Donnell replied.

  “Very good, sir,” Fife said. Turning to his security chief, Lieutenant Url, Fife said, “Lieutenant, relieve our guests of their weapons.”

  “If you move, we will be forced to fire,” Hent said.

  “Lieutenant Url?”

  With a nod, Url stepped away from his tactical console. As soon as he did, the nearest CIF officer trained his weapon on Url and depressed his trigger.

  A low click was the weapon’s only response.

  Surprised, the officer tried to fire again. Each of his companions did the same, to no effect.

  “Your weapons were disabled the moment you entered our bridge,” Fife advised Hent. “I assure you, they are quite useless.”

  “A dampening field?” O’Donnell asked.

  “Installed just after we entered Confederacy space,” Fife replied, “and set only to affect Confederacy weapons.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  Fife shrugged.

  “Hand to hand,” Hent ordered.

  He barely moved forward half a pace toward Fife, before the commander removed his type-1 phaser from his pocket and fired, stunning Hent and dropping him to the deck. Vincent, Url, and flight controller Falto quickly disabled the other CIF officers with their own phasers. Although sidearms were not always carried on the bridge, this was another precaution Fife had ordered while in Confederacy space.

  “Stunned, Atlee?” O’Donnell asked.

  “Yes. We could reconfigure one of our labs as a temporary brig, or . . .”

  “Let’s send them home.” O’Donnell sighed. “But,” he added, “I think it’s time Overseer Bralt and I spoke face-to-face again.”

  “Ensign Vincent, transport these men back to the Fourth Jroone and simultaneously bring Overseer Bralt to the bridge. Open a channel to the Jroone as soon as that’s done.”

  “Aye, Commander,” Vincent acknowledged.

  Moments later, the CIF officers had vanished and Bralt appeared before them. His shock at having been unexpectedly relocated from his ship soon gave way to fear for his person. He looked about Demeter’s bridge in alarm while randomly feeling his arms and upper torso as if to assure himself he had arrived all in one piece. “How?” he asked, shocked.

  “The Federation has their own version of transporter technology. Welcome back to the Demeter, Overseer,” O’Donnell welcomed him warmly.

  “Commander O’Donnell, what is the meaning of this?” EC Irste demanded from the main viewscreen.

  “Well, as best I can tell, Bralt here decided to try and concoct a flimsy excuse for taking my ship from me, and we found that unacceptable. We prevented your men from harming us or our ship and returned them to you uninjured. Now I need to speak with Mister Bralt, but just so there’s no further confusion, I’d like you to listen to our conversation.”

  “EC Irste,” Bralt said abruptly, “have a protector bring me back to the Jroone.”

  “Lieutenant Url?” Fife said.

  “Venting tetryon plasma,” Url replied. After a moment, he added, “All local protectors have been returned to subspace.”

  “We could keep playing these games all day, Overseer, but they’re a waste of valuable time,” O’Donnell said. “My XO, Commander Fife, has spent many hours pondering and preparing countermeasures for any attack your ship could execute against us. It’s what he does,” he offered apologetically. “I don’t honestly believe that at this point you could justify opening fire on us, but should you decide to head down that road, we’re ready for that too. You know and I know that if you do, any hope for an alliance between our peoples ends here and now.
While I don’t think that would bother either of you, I’m guessing a decision like that is above your pay grades.

  “I’d like to offer you a suggestion and really hope you’ll hear me out.”

  Bralt’s gaze could have leveled O’Donnell on the spot, but he said, “We do not appear to have a choice.”

  “I’ve spent a few weeks among your people. I’ve seen and learned a great deal. As best I can tell, the Confederacy has no need of an alliance with the Federation, at least as far as your agricultural production is concerned. You have all of the capabilities you require to correct your current deficiencies. In some cases, you lack the political will to do so, but in others, you simply aren’t utilizing what you have to its maximum potential.”

  “You are incorrect,” Bralt insisted.

  “That’s never true,” O’Donnell said, “but I’m not surprised to hear you say it. Why don’t you let me show you what I’m talking about.”

  “By all means,” Bralt said a little too sarcastically.

  “Excellent,” O’Donnell said, ignoring Bralt’s tone. “Commander Fife, bring the slipstream drive online and set course for system Delta M 198. Let’s avoid the Gateway and access it through our initial course of discovery and initiate long-range scans as soon as possible to make sure we won’t be interrupted by any of our old friends.” Turning to the viewscreen, O’Donnell continued: “Mister Irste, I’d love to take you with us, but, sadly, the Jroone won’t be able to keep pace. We will return to these coordinates, with Overseer Bralt, in twelve hours.”

  “Where are we going?” Bralt demanded.

  “I believe you call it the last lemm,” O’Donnell replied.

  “I am your prisoner?” Bralt asked.

  “Absolutely not. You’re our honored guest. If you’d prefer to continue to live in ignorance, I will return you to your ship immediately.”

  Bralt turned to look at EC Irste.

  “The last lemm?” Irste said reverently. “Is that even possible without utilizing the Gateway?”

  “Yes,” O’Donnell assured him.

  “You will await my return, EC,” Bralt ordered.

  “Understood, Overseer,” Irste said. “Fourth Jroone signing off.”

  As the viewscreen shifted back to a view of Vitrum, O’Donnell said, “With your permission, Overseer Bralt, Commander Fife will show you to your temporary quarters. I’m sure they won’t be up to your considerable standards, but I promise you, you’re going to love our food.”

  VESTA

  “Thoughts?” Admiral Janeway asked. “Speak freely,” she added.

  Captain Farkas and Counselor Cambridge locked eyes briefly over the conference room table. Decan, who stood behind the admiral’s chair, was busy making notes on the padd he held in his hand.

  Farkas was the first to speak. “Have you considered the possibility that the presider was not entirely forthcoming with you?”

  “Yes,” Janeway replied. “But whether she intends to seek a diplomatic solution with the aliens at the Gateway, or simply means to use this overture as cover for an attack, the results will be the same. The entire fleet has our emergency rendezvous coordinates. Voyager and Demeter are scheduled to return to the First World today. Should our mission not go well, we will all regroup in a safe location and put this unfortunate episode behind us.”

  “Regardless of the presider’s intentions, she’s shooting herself in the foot by bringing us with her,” Cambridge said. “Even if the armada out there is interested in negotiating with her, Voyager’s past interactions with them aren’t going to aid her cause.”

  “I told her as much,” Janeway said. “But the fact remains that those ships are aware of the Federation’s presence here and are already prepared to attack us.”

  “Then why are we giving them the chance?” Farkas asked.

  “If they can come to terms with the Confederacy, and we can help them do that, they might consider reevaluating our relationship with them as well,” Janeway replied.

  “In the best of all possible worlds,” Cambridge said, “but this is the Delta Quadrant.”

  “The presider knows we can’t enter this fight on her side. If hostilities break out, we engage our slipstream drive and depart.”

  “Leaving the rest of our fleet in Confederacy space?” Farkas asked.

  “I trust Captain Chakotay and Commanders O’Donnell and Glenn to see to the safety of their ships,” Janeway said. “They’ll know where we are, and should they fail to arrive in a timely manner, we do whatever we have to do to find them.”

  “Or,” Cambridge suggested, “you could tell the presider to wait one more day and see the rest of the fleet safely clear of Confederacy space before we attempt this fool’s errand.”

  “Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind after speaking with the presider and now believe that an alliance is possible,” Farkas added.

  “It’s not,” Janeway said. “The Confederacy will never be an appropriate safe harbor for our fleet. I wouldn’t trust anything Dreeg agreed to. But I’d just as soon not have them as an enemy either. If we make this attempt, and it fails, no one on either side can claim that we didn’t do everything in our power to establish a positive working relationship. If we depart now, and the Confederacy comes under attack and suffers considerable losses, we abandoned them in their moment of need.”

  “Do you honestly care?” Cambridge asked.

  “I do, but it’s more than that,” Janeway said. “The Turei, the Vaadwaur, and the Devore could prove to be powerful adversaries and make our next few years here incredibly unpleasant. If a series of previously undetected subspace corridors runs throughout the Delta Quadrant, sufficient for them to have discovered both our presence here and the Confederacy, they could attack us at any time. Our past differences aren’t going away. We have to face them at some point. We are not their enemy, and they need to know that.”

  “I think I’d feel better about this if we had any idea what they’re really doing here,” Farkas said.

  “As would I,” Janeway agreed, “and right now, this might be the best way for us to find out.”

  “We’re using the Confederacy for our own ends, just as they think they are using us?” Cambridge asked. “Is that the diplomatic definition of a ‘win-win’ scenario?”

  “Sometimes,” Janeway allowed.

  “Don’t you think there’s enough of the Delta Quadrant left to explore without risking this?” Cambridge asked. “We’ve been traveling through the Alpha and Beta quadrants for centuries now and still haven’t seen all of them.”

  “The admiral is right,” Farkas said. “Voyager encountered a number of interesting species and cultures out here on her maiden trek, but these three—the Turei, the Vaadwaur, and the Devore—were on a short list where no accord could be reached. Worst-case scenario, they make peace with the Confederacy as well, and all four of them decide the Federation cannot be allowed to maintain a presence here. Never mind the Voth,” she added.

  “The only place we have detected the Voth was near our communications relays. It is likely that they are completely unaware of our actions here,” Janeway reminded her.

  “Yes, but they don’t like us much either, so that’s potentially five heavy hitters out there gunning for us,” Farkas noted.

  “Maybe they’ll contact the Tarkons and things will really get interesting,” Cambridge said with a smirk.

  “Let’s hope not,” Janeway said. “Unless there are any other concerns, I think we’re done here.”

  “I think we’re just getting started,” Cambridge observed.

  “Stand ready to move out when the presider signals she’s ready.”

  “Aye, Admiral,” Farkas said.

  VOYAGER

  Once he was assured that Voyager was on course for the First World, Captain Chakotay wasted no time in reporting to sickbay. He suspected the Doctor’s odd behavior was related to their conversation of the previous evening, but his concerns for Seven did not relieve him o
f his present duties to Voyager. Chakotay hadn’t been able to take the Doctor to task during the battle over Lecahn, but now he had time, and a spleen that needed venting.

  He found the Doctor, just as the nurse had reported, seated at his old office desk staring at his data screen. Using his command overrides, he entered the office. The Doctor did not turn or speak a word in greeting. The screen displayed a photograph of Seven standing with the Doctor during some sort of celebration in Voyager’s old mess hall. Chakotay had never imagined he would think of anything from that time as the “good old days,” but the image captured both of them in a moment of unrestrained happiness, and, truth be told, he hadn’t seen either of them smile so freely in a long time.

  “Doctor,” Chakotay said, clearly startling the hologram.

  He turned to face Chakotay, tears streaming down his face.

  The anger Chakotay had carried with him to sickbay was forgotten.

  “She’s dead, you know?” the Doctor said.

  “What are you talking about?” Chakotay demanded.

  “I was going to save her. I was going to cure the—” The Doctor ceased speaking abruptly. “Forgive me, Captain, but you are not cleared to receive that data.” After another pause, the Doctor asked, “Are you?”

  Chakotay immediately moved to sit opposite the Doctor, saying, “Slow down. What data?”

  “It’s classified,” the Doctor said. “They wanted to keep it a secret because they knew she would never approve. But she must know by now. They would have had to kill her.”

  “Doctor, we already discussed this last night,” Chakotay said, alarmed. “We’re en route now back to the First World. I’ll speak to Barclay as soon as I can.”

  “I’m sorry,” the Doctor said. “I know how much you loved her.”

  Fear settled itself firmly in Chakotay’s gut. “Doctor, we’ve been over this. Seven and I ended our romantic relationship years ago.”

  “That’s right,” the Doctor said. “You did. Did I?”

  “Did you what?”

  “Love Seven?”

  Chakotay shook his head. “You and Seven are very close friends, Doctor. But neither of you—”