by Mosaic
CHAPTER 12
THEY HAD BEEN SWIMMING UNDERWATER FOR THREE QUARTERS of an hour, and things were getting worse all the time. In spite of the fact that he knew kicking up silt would greatly hinder their vision, Cheb seemed to keep bumping into outcroppings, or dropping a foot to the floor of the channel. A cloud of silt erupted from each of these intrusions, blocking Kathryn's vision and threatening to clog her breathing gilt. One small dark part of her mind wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Cheb had definitely not recovered from the devastating news that his admission to Starfleet Academy had been rejected. She had been accepted, along with their friends Blake and Anna, and a number of others from the Institute. But Cheb, although winning acceptance at any number of prestigious colleges and universities, didn't make the cut at the Academy. He had been stunned, then angry, then frighteningly withdrawn. Kathryn had tried to comfort him, but he was disconsolate, and frequently lashed out at whoever was in range. "It's because I got a disciplinary reprimand after we went to that castle last winter. It never would've happened if you'd left with the rest of us."
"Cheb, we were both reprimanded for that incident. Not just you."
"But you became some kind of heroine because you found that old woman."
"She was sick and confused. She needed help. I helped her. That's all."
"So you came out of it a saint, and I took all the blame."
Kathryn had stopped talking at that point. There was no point in reasoning with him when he was so upset; he could color anything with his revisionist view of the past. It was true Mrs. Klamer's family had been deeply grateful to her for finding their aged grandmother. The old woman, failing mentally and fascinated for years by tales of the Magruder Mansion, had somehow managed to leave her family home in Kentucky, travel hundreds of miles to southern Ohio, and take up a brief residence in the ancient castle, fantasizing that she was Mary Dugan Magruder. Kathryn's intervention prevented a possible tragedy, and the Klamer family was copious in its praise of her. But it was true the Institute had disciplined her, along with Cheb, for the unauthorized use of the transporter.
She didn't think the incident had anything to do with his rejection from the Academy; privately, she suspected he had been too arrogant in his interview, but she didn't feel like saying that to him. Now, she had begun to wonder if their cave-diving trip was a good idea. They'd had it planned for months Kathryn had been working on it since she was fourteen and it didn't seem right to cancel it just because Cheb was disappointed. In fact, she hoped the adventure would take the edge off his frustration and leave him more hopeful about his future.
But it didn't seem to be working that way. Cheb had been terse and short-tempered ever since they left Earth on the shuttle for Mars. Her father had arranged the trip as a graduation present; they would stay in Starfleet quarters and enjoy the privileges of the Officer's Club. Of course, her father didn't know about their plans to go cave-diving. And there was no need for him to. She and Cheb would explore the quarry caves for a few days, camping underground, and return to Earth within the allotted time.
But the trek she had looked forward to for so long, with such anticipation, was being soured by Cheb's depression. Like kicking up silt: she knew he could be more careful, but he wasn't, he was making it less pleasant for her so she wouldn't enjoy the experience any more than he. They had been swimming through a long, tubular chamber filled with stalactites and stalagmites that jutted from above and below and threatened to snag them as they were pulled along by their hydromagnetic drives. Cheb was unspooling the guideline as he went, and she periodically fastened it to an outcropping. They would need this line to direct them back when they returned.
When the water stayed clear, Kathryn could see the formations in the light of her aquadyne torch, a mysterious and elegant arrangement of spires, like an underwater city of towers and turrets. It was a mesmerizing sight, and she imagined the millennia it had taken to form those spires, millimeter by millimeter, as dissolved calcium was slowly released by evaporating water, forming deposits that hardened and grew to astonishing proportions.
She realized they might be the first living creatures to have seen these formations.
This was what she had come for-for the ineffable thrill of seeing what hadn't been seen, of knowing what hadn't been known. She was inexorably drawn to the unexplored, fascinated by the unfamiliar. She wanted to savor the excitement of discovery, to revel in the anticipation of turning the next corner and finding something marvelous and unique. She didn't particularly want to nursemaid Cheb Packer's hurt feelings. Ahead of her, the water cleared, Cheb rose abruptly, and she realized he was surfacing. After nearly an hour, they had found an air pocket. And what an air pocket it was. As her head broke the surface of the water, Kathryn's light shone into a massive, cavernous room as big as several soccer fields. The ceiling rose fifty meters over their heads, and dripped with stalactites in wondrous, majestic patterns. It was like surfacing into the interior of a massive cathedral.
Cheb had swum to a rocky "beach" and crawled ashore; she followed him, removing her gill breather. "This is incredible," she said, and her voice echoed strangely in the hollow stillness.
"We can set up a camp here. There's enough level ground."
Kathryn unstrapped the waterproof pack from her back and dropped it to the ground. In it were concentrated food packs, dry clothing, and thermal blankets. Immediately, she began to roam, examining the stalactites that hung from the ceiling, still forming, still dripping with water, each drop leaving a minute quantity of calcium which would harden and lithify, gradually growing the inverted steeple of mineral deposits longer and longer.
"Isn't it amazing, Cheb? They're still forming. We're seeing a process that's been going on for millions of years."
He shrugged. "It happens the same way on Earth."
"But we're not on Earth. We're on Mars. And we may be the first people ever to see these caves, to see these stalactites form."
"Who has the oatmeal? Is that in your pack or mine?" She stared at him. Was he going to be like this the whole time? She took a deep breath, determined not to let him ruin the trip. "I think it's in yours."
He grunted and bent over his pack, searching through it, tossing items this way and that. Sloppy, she thought. He'll be sorry when he has to repack. She wandered around the huge chamber, studying the formations, ruminating on the natural processes that had been interrupted on Mars by its long freeze, and which now were proceeding once more, the millennia-long hiatus nothing more than a tiny blip in the evolution of the planet. She heard Cheb continue to paw through the pack, grumbling and muttering under his breath, and she smiled to herself. He was going to make himself as miserable as possible. He would make sure he- The speck of white almost went unnoticed. Her head lamp swept by it and her brain must have registered it unconsciously because she wasn't aware of having seen anything. And yet something made her turn back and inspect the stratified wall again.
And there it was: less than two centimeters long, an ovalshaped, striped ribbon, bisected by a dark line that ran lengthwise. The fossilized remains of an animal, embedded in this cave wall for eons. "Cheb! Come here!" Her voice rang with excitement but was dampened in the heavy cave air.
"What?" He had stopped rummaging through his pack, but made no move to join her.
"Look what I've found!" She couldn't believe his stubbornness. If he'd gotten this excited about something, she'd have been there in a second. But he stared at her, looked around, looked back, and finally began shuffling in her direction. The dark lock of hair fell over his forehead-the same tendril she had once found so endearing-and she thought it gave him a scruffy look, unkempt and messy.
She located the fossil with her headlamp and pointed to it. "See? The fossil?"
He peered at it. "So?"
"That line there, the one that runs the length of it... I think that's a spinal rod. I think this is a chordate."
He looked skeptical. "How could a chordate have developed o
n Mars?"
"I don't know. But there it is."
"You're guessing it's a chordate. You don't know for sure."
"I did a senior honors thesis on vertebrate anatomy. I studied chordates then. This looks just like some of the oldest ancestors of the vertebrate branch of animals on Earth. The ancestors of man."
"Could you help me find the oatmeal now?"
Fury welled in her. He had to be doing this on purpose. Finding evidence of chordates on Mars was completely unexpected, a remarkable discovery. It would require a reexamination of all the planet's evolutionary history. This was possibly a major scientific breakthrough and all Cheb could think of was his stomach.
"No, I could not help you find the oatmeal. If you packed it, it's there. If you didn't, it isn't. I'm going to look for more fossils."
He took on an aggrieved, wounded look, instantly the victim. "What's gotten into you? I don't deserve to be barked at like that."
"Yes, you do. You've been in a sour mood for weeks. Isn't it time you at least made an effort to get over it?"
His eyes narrowed at her retort. "Thanks for your terrific compassion. For such exquisite sensitivity to my feelings. It's really great to realize your best friend doesn't give a damn about you."
She felt as though she'd been impaled by a spear. Of course he was still hurt and disappointed. She shouldn't have snapped at him like that; there were better ways to handle the situation. When would she ever learn to control her tongue?
"I'm sorry, Cheb. I just didn't understand why you wouldn't be excited by my finding that fossil."
He turned and moved back toward their packs. "Is this what the week's going to be like? You jumping all over me like some Circassian hellcat every time I open my mouth?"
"That's not fair, I didn't-was
"I can't think of anything worse... being trapped underground with someone who delights in pointing out all one's defects."
"Cheb, what are you saying? I haven't done that-was "Do you think I haven't noticed the past few weeks? How cold you've been? How withdrawn?"
"Me... ?"
"Are you saying you aren't aware of how you've been?" Kathryn felt a familiar confusion returning. They had been through this before. Cheb had the maddening ability to turn things around one hundred and eighty degrees, to twist anything she said, drawing on just enough truth to make her begin doubting herself. She wasn't going to let it happen this time.
"I don't think I've been different at all. You're the one who's changed-ever since you got rejected by Starfleet Academy."
"Thank you. I need to be reminded of that."
"But you said... just a few minutes ago... you said you were feeling bad. You accused me of not being sensitive to you."
"I don't remember saying it had anything to do with Starfleet. You're the one who's been making me miserable.""
She felt blood roaring in her ears. The whole thing was taking on a surreal air-the pit-darkness, illuminated only by their headlamps, the fantastical underground cathedral room, the damp chill of the trapped air-and she began to feel disoriented. Was Cheb making sense? Was her perception of the last weeks flawed? Had it all been her fault?
"What... are you saying?"
"The way you've treated me. Like hitting a guy when he's down. I think I could've handled the whole Starfleet thing a lot better if I'd had any support from you."
"But I thought I did, I was... I've tried to help..." She felt inarticulate and clumsy. He was staring at her, disappointment etched on his face.
"If that was your idea of helping, that scares me. I think you're the one that needs help, Kathryn."
Her head reeled. She couldn't believe she was hearing this. She tried to calm herself and took several deep breaths, but before she could say anything, Cheb knelt down and began reassembling the things he'd taken from his pack.
"What are you doing?"
"Packing up. I'm not spending a week in these conditions with you."
"But-we've planned this for a year. And I really want to look for more fossils-was
He stood up and his dark blue eyes flashed in the glare of her lamp. "That's so like you, Kathryn. "I really want to look for more fossils." You're a true scientist, I guess, if fossils mean more to you than what's happening to us."
"To us? What's happening to us? Cheb, why are you being like this-was He knelt down once more and began stuffing his pack. "I'm going back. You can come or you can stay here."
"I can't stay here alone, that's ridiculous."
"Then let's get ready to go."
She stared at him for a moment, mind still unable to accept that he was serious. But as he finished repacking, she saw that he meant it. He was leaving. And if he did, she would have to.
Briefly her mind danced over the idea of staying, just to prevent him from being able to manipulate her; but one quick look around this caverous room and the prospect of staying there alone was overwhelming. She picked up her pack and strapped it on, adjusted her aquadyne torch lamp, and fit her breathing gill into her mouth. Cheb did the same, and without another word they both walked into the water for the long swim back.
CHAPTER 13
THE KAZON HAD BEEN TRAWLING FOR OVER AN HOUR, PEPPER- ing the nebula with percussive plasma flares. Sometimes they seemed close; sometimes they were only a distant vibration. At one time Janeway thought they had given up and gone away, as they hadn't felt any jolts for almost thirty minutes. But then, in the distance, their sensors registered the distinctive thoop of the bombs growing closer once more. Chakotay studied his console. "They're on a direct course, Captain. Heading one-four-nine mark seven."
This was ominous. Until now, the Kazon ship had clearly been trawling, sending out flares in a random pattern, hoping for a hit. Now it was bearing down on Voyager, seemingly having detected the ship and homing in on it.
"Shields," said Janeway quietly. They had dropped shields in order to prevent the energy signature from being detected, but now it seemed wiser to protect themselves from a possible attack.
The percussive devices grew louder, and Voyager began to tremble, then shake, from the shock wave of each detonation. "Bridge to Engineering. Status."
Torres' voice was brisk and calm. "I've almost got warp engines back, Captain. I've been concentrating on thatstill only one phaser bank on-line."
"Acknowledged. Let me know the minute you've got warp capability."
"Aye, Captain."
Chakotay was still studying his console, his forehead knotted in concentration. "There's no doubt about it. They're heading right for us." And as if in violent confirmation, a weapons blast hit Voyager's shields, jolting the bridge and everyone on it. "Those weren't plasma flares," said Paris loudly. "They've shifted to their primary disruptor weapons."
"Shields at eighty-four percent."
"Return fire." Janeway didn't like revealing their weakened weapons systems, but they couldn't continue to sit here without retaliating now that the Kazon had definitely located them.
Phaser fire arced through the nebula, illuminating the dark gases in eerie patterns, and then lancing through the Kazon ship's shields. "Direct hit," said Chakotay with satisfaction. "They felt that one." But no sooner had he spoken than Voyager took three more hits in rapid succession. Smoke from an explosion somewhere in one of the conduits began to seep onto the bridge.
"Shields at seventy-one percent."
"Return fire. Bridge to Engineering. What's happening with warp drive?"
"Almost there, Captain," came Torres' reply.
"I need it now, Lieutenant."
"Understood." In Engineering, Torres was working frantically, beads of perspiration forming on her ridged Klingon brow. She had been realigning the dilithiumcrystal articulation frame, desperately trying to restore warp power, and she was almost there. Only the antimatter injectors remained to be reinitialized. Lieutenant Carey was at her side, calculating parameters for the warp core ignition sequence, and with luck, they'd have warp capa- bility in seconds.
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br /> "Engineering?" Janeway's voice displayed no emotion, but the quick repetition of her request indicated their desperate plight. A huge jolt rocked the ship, and Carey went flying across the room. "I'm okay," he called quickly, "don't stop working."
Torres hit the final commands for reinitialization, and was rewarded with the familiar sound of the warp core humming to life. "Tomes to bridge. We're on-line."
"Understood, Engineering. Good work."
On the bridge, Janeway looked toward Paris. "I want to go to warp from within this nebula, Lieutenant. What's your assessment of the repercussions?"