Star Trek - Voy - Mosaic

by Mosaic

  Faint, delicate, like the heartbeats of tiny birds. But unmistakable. Where were they coming from? The room seemed to be empty except for the two of them. But he was most definitely reading the life signs of an alien species, throbbing gently.

  They walked toward the wall. No seams were visible, no joints. The satiny surface was cool to the touch but not cold. They could find no mark, no pattern, nothing that gave them a clue as to their next step. "We were led here, I'm sure of it," said Kes. "I feltdrawn-here. By the clicking sounds, and by a... a need to come. I couldn't resist it."

  "I know. I saw you. Whatever it was must have tapped into your telepathic abilities, because it didn't affect me in the same way."

  "It felt... urgent. Vital. I had to follow the sound wherever it took me because... because..." She trailed off in some confusion. "Because why?"

  "I'm not sure. I think I was going to say... because if I didn't come here-death would be victorious."

  "What does that mean?"

  "I don't know that it means anything. It's just what I was feeling."

  "Do you feel that way now?"

  "No. All the sensations are gone."

  "Great. Now how the heck do we get out of here?" He hit his commbadge, but wasn't surprised when his hail didn't raise anyone. He began scanning again, instinctively, looking for answers. He noticed that he'd begun to perspire, and hated to admit he was that apprehensive.

  He began a tour of the room, scanning the walls closely. Maybe he could locate the source of the faint life signs. It was tedious work, and he wiped his brow several times before he completed his circumnavigation. When he had looped the room once, he came back to where Kes was standing, her fingers lightly grazing the shiny walls. Then she looked over at him in puzzlement.

  "The wall feels warmer than before."

  Harry realized Kes was perspiring, too. A few locks of her hair were damp. He reached out, touched the wall, and found that it was no longer cool. It wasn't what you'd call hot, but it had lost the satiny chill it had before. The tricorder confirmed it had risen several degrees in temperature. Kes turned in the room, hands on her cheeks. "It's getting hotter," she said. And then they both noticed that the hue of the wall was changing, too. It had lost all hints of blue and was now a purple with decidedly red undertones.

  "Mr. Paris, have you ever achieved orbit directly from warp?"

  "No, ma'am, I can't say that I have."

  "Well, this is your chance."

  Tom Paris turned and glanced at the captain, though he knew she was serious. "Ma'am?"

  "I want to get our people back. But in all likelihood, the Kazon are still monitoring the planet. I want to stay at warp speed until we're behind the limb, then go directly into orbit."

  Janeway watched as Tom pondered this dangerous feat. She could almost hear his mind working, making the necessary calculations. A moment passed, and then he glanced up at her.

  "Captain, begging your pardon, but have you ever accomplished this?"

  "No, Lieutenant, but I've heard of its being done. Therefore it's a possibility."

  "Yes, ma'am. What warp factor did you want to use?"

  "The highest we can and still pull this off."

  Tom turned again to his console, and ran his fingers over the touch-sensitive surface. Janeway knew he was entering parameters for one of the most difficult calculations he'd ever attempted to perform. The navigational computer, assisted by the multivariate computational skills of Voyager's neural gel packs, would consider rates of acceleration and deceleration, the gravitational fields of the planet and its sun, the effect of the drag from the farthest reaches of the planet's upper atmosphere, and the performance efficiencies of the ship's warp nacelles. Tom was reviewing these numbers as they flashed across his screen. But even the extraordinary power of Voyager's computer system couldn't make the final choice among several viable trajectories; no computer could possibly take into account every subtle variable and contingency in such a complex calculation. Only the intuition of a gifted and experienced pilot could be trusted to make the final choice of heading and speed. And Janeway was banking on Tom's ability to do just that: to make a choice based on what felt right.

  Finally, she saw him take a deep, quiet breath. "I think I can pull it off at warp four point two, Captain," he said, his voice betraying no hint of anxiety over the importance of this decision. "Then do it."

  "Aye, warp four point two. Engaging..." There was a slight hesitation as he took a careful breath; she sensed him stilling his mind, concentrating on the task. "Now."

  Voyager leapt to warp. At this speed, the planet was only a few minutes away from the shell of gas and dust clouds surrounding the distant reaches of the star system. Getting there would be easy; the hard part would be bringing the ship into orbit a microsecond before Voyager slammed into the planet at over a hundred times the speed of light.

  "Full power to inertial dampers," ordered Janeway crisply. She wanted to project an air of confidence about this maneuver. "Twelve seconds to orbit," said Tom, his voice as calm as hers. His fingers tapped the console, programming a few last corrections before entering the automatic deceleration sequence. On the main viewscreen, the image of the planet grew at an alarming rate. Janeway made herself focus on it, trying to shut out doubt as to the outcome of this maneuver. If it didn't work, she thought, at least the end would be instantaneous. Tom's voice didn't waver as he began to call out. "Dropping out of warp in five... four... three... two... one..."

  The ship lurched violently, throwing everyone forward. Even at maximum power the inertial damping field couldn't completely compensate for the enormous change in acceleration. The ship listed slightly, and for one brief instant Janeway thought they had lost control and would hit the planet's atmosphere and incinerate from the friction. But then Voyager eased into a gentle free fall a thousand kilometers above the surface. She looked down at Tom Paris, who was a little pale but smiling. He had every right to be pleased with himself. "Good work, Mr. Paris," she said mildly.

  He turned in his seat and looked up at her. His saucy confidence had returned in full. "Nothing to it," he grinned. "See if you can find our people," Janeway began, but Chakotay was ahead of her, already manning his station, directing the sensors to scan for life signs of their crew.

  "Captain, a Kazon ship has come into orbit on the opposite side of the planet."

  "Then they'll find us in minutes. Any luck, Commander?"

  "Negative. I see Kazon signs-about forty of thembut none of ours." Janeway considered. That could mean Tuvok had found refuge in a place that was shielded from sensors.

  It could also mean that the entire away team was dead. But if that were true, why would Kazon forces stay on the surface? Why would the ship be monitoring the planet? She had to assume her people were alive, shielded, waiting for rescue.

  "The Kazon ship is moving this way," intoned Paris. They still couldn't risk a shoot-out with the Kazon; weapons arrays were dubious at best. They had no choice but to retreat again. "Take us out of here the same way you got us here, Lieutenant. At warp."

  "Aye, Captain." Before this day is over I'm going to have this maneuver down pat, thought Paris, as he rocketed Voyager from orbit. Chakotay turned to her. "If Tuvok were here, he'd remind you that retreat is always an option. And that the soundest strategy protects the many at the expense of the few."

  "But he's not here. And I'm not quitting until every option has been explored. Put on your thinking cap, Commander. We're going to figure out how to rescue our people."

  Chakotay smiled, and Janeway returned it, reminded once more of how very glad she was to have him at her side.

  CHAPTER 16

  ENSIGN KATHRYN JANEWAY WATCHED AS EARTH RECEDED, and remembered that first flight years ago, when she and her father had taken the shuttle to Mars. She could still recall the visceral thrill she felt as the blue and white marble grew smaller and smaller and finally became just a dot of light in the blackness of space. It was her first lesso
n, repeated here today, in the va/s of space, of Earth's relative unimportance in the heavens, and of man's place in the universe as just one species among many.

  Her father had told her, when she was small, that a thousand years ago people believed that Earth was the center of the universe, that all other heavenly bodies revolved around it. When Copernicus suggested otherwise, and Galileo proved it, they weren't lauded for their discoveries; they were castigated. People then had raged at the truth rather than embrace it. Kathryn had always found it comforting to feel part of a vast family. First was the family of humankind, a planet of beings who were at one with each other, who had long ago stopped battling over imaginary lines in the ground, and who lived in peace and harmony. But to consider oneself part of an even greater groupof the family of the galaxies and all their myriad specieswas to feel a fortunate child, with billions of aunts, uncles, and cousins, to be alone nowhere in the universe. To Kathryn that was one of the wondrous privileges of life in a spacefaring age.

  Now, sitting on the bridge of the starship Icarus, with Admiral Paris in command, setting off on an expedition into deep space in order to study massive compact halo objects, she thought she could know no greater happiness. She was actually the junior science officer on this mission, tapped by the admiral for his recently sanctioned Arias expedition just one year after she'd completed a doctoral degree in quantum cosmology. It was heady stuff for one so young to be chosen for such an important mission. She sensed a presence near her station and realized Admiral Paris had moved closer to her, still staring at the viewscreen, where Earth was now a small dot, blue turning to white. "That's the last you'll see of home for at least a year, Ensign," he said. "I hope you won't be getting homesick on me."

  She looked up at him, unsure whether he was kidding or not. She had learned that he had a wonderful, wry sense of humor, and enjoyed tweaking those he liked. But his style was so dry it often blurred the line between joke and truth.

  "I'm not the homesick type, sir," she replied, preferring to play it safe by taking him seriously. But she wasn't surprised when his eyes twinkled and he grinned at her.

  "Actually, Ensign, you're the last person I'd suspect of that particular malady."

  He didn't explain himself further, and Kathryn found herself wondering if the admiral thought a lack of susceptibility to homesickness was a good thing or a bad one. And then she wondered why it mattered so much what he thought.

  "I'd like to meet with the science team at eleven hundred hours," continued the admiral. "I don't think you've met everyone yet."

  "No, sir. I'm looking forward to it." Actually, she was fitfully anxious about that encounter. She was bound to be the youngest and least experienced of the group, a fact of which she was sure they were all aware. Would they accept her? Would they respect her? Did they resent the admiral bringing a raw ensign on such a far-ranging and scientifically significant expedition?

  She would have to prove herself to them.

  But as it happened, there was only one person with whom that would prove to be necessary. When they convened in the wardroom later that morning, Kathryn sensed nothing but friendship and receptivity from most of the people in the room as Admiral Paris introduced them. "May I present Commander T'Por, whose expertise in astrophysics is legendary." Kathryn looked into the solemn eyes of an elegant Vulcan woman of whom she'd already heard a great deal. "Lieutenant Darren Ditillo, a seasoned space traveler with proficiency in astrometric analysis." A small, wiry man in his late thirties with thinning hair and a ready smile shook her hand enthusiastically. "Ensign Sally Rhodes, only a few years out of the Academy but already well respected in the field of condensed matter physics." The young woman was only a few years older than she, and Kathryn was comforted to know there was a friendly peer among the group. They all seemed welcoming, and Kathryn began to relax. But there was one other person in the group.

  "And this is Lieutenant Justin Tighe, our engineering liaison." Kathryn shook the hand of a lean, muscular man of about thirty with dark, tousled hair, whose grip was confident and whose eyes-deep, blue eyes-were challenging.

  "Welcome aboard, Ensign," he said with a smile that was at once knowing and confrontational. Kathryn felt an unease that began at her fingertips and radiated up her arms and into her cheeks, which she realized were flushing. "Thank you, sir," she murmured, withdrew her hand and took her seat at the polished black table in the wardroom. She sat with her back to the wide window, outside which the ethereal streaks of warp stars illuminated the darkness of space. It was a sight that still mesmerized her, and she didn't want to be distracted during this meeting.

  It meant, however, that she sat right next to Justin Tighe. "I'm gratified to be leading this expedition," Admiral Paris began. "You all know that I've been intrigued by massive compact halo objects for a great many years. We are, of course, heading for the galactic rim, six hundred light-years beyond Deep Space Station Seven, where there's a suspected "birthplace' of these enigmatic phenomena. I'd like to convene daily seminars for all of us to trade information and ideas so we'll be snapped in by the time we get there."

  There was nothing remarkable in what Admiral Paris was saying, and Kathryn found herself uncomfortably aware of Lieutenant Tighe next to her. She kept her face turned away from him, toward the admiral at the head of the table, but his presence was palpable. She forced herself to shut him out, to focus entirely on the admiral, who was up on his feet now, pacing the room, pausing to stand by the window and stare out at the star streaks as he talked.

  "There is, however, another aspect to this expedition. One which it was necessary to conceal from you until we had left Earth because of its top-secret nature."

  He had everyone's rapt attention now. His voice was grave as he continued. "Ours is certainly a scientific endeavor, and we hope to return to Earth with a greater understanding of halo objects. If we accomplish nothing more than that, we will have expanded the field of galactic inquiry to a significant degree."

  He turned to them, his kind eyes finding, and holding, a look with each of them in turn. "But that isn't the sole purpose for our venture. There is an additional, covert, mission to be accomplished during our journey." Paris paused here, as though thinking how best to introduce the subject he was leading to.

  "First, I must remind you that this is a matter of the highest secrecy. Not everyone on the ship will be aware of it. It is essential that you speak of it to no one-not even among yourselves. I am telling you because, as the senior scientific staff; you might question some of the procedures we'll be choosing in the future. You will be curious as to some of the destinations we select. And it's essential that those questions not be asked. It may be that some decisions will interfere with your scientific explorations; it is imperative that you accept those disappointments."

  Kathryn was staring at Admiral Paris, mind racing. What was going on? What could be of such magnitude that it was treated with this heavy cloak of secrecy? This was uncharacteristic of Starfleet-at least of the Starfleet she had experienced-and it made her uncomfortable. "We are also an information-gathering mission," continued Paris. "We will be traveling near Cardassian space, at times quite close to their borders, and at those times we will be actively uploading intelligence about their troop movements, weapons depots, fleet size, and other data necessary to insure the defense of the Federation."

  A long, solemn silence blanketed the room as he spoke those words. Kathryn found her heart pounding. The ship was on a spy mission. Her first venture into deep space wasn't an innocuous assignment to gather scientific datait was an urgent military operation, crucial and dangerous.

  Admiral Paris absorbed the stunned silence that greeted his announcement, and continued. "There are those on this ship who are part of an elite core of Starfleet's finest: a highly trained, disciplined group of Rangers who will also function as members of the scientific expedition. They will work among you without your knowing their identity. I am the only person on board who knows who they are.
"

  He eyed them once more. "Now is the time for any questions. I will answer what I can. But after today, there will be no further mention of this matter. Are you clear on that?"

  Several people nodded. Sally Rhodes raised a hand, as though she were back in school. Kathryn understood the feeling. "Sir," said Ensign Rhodes, "are we going to war with Cardassia?"

  "I hope not. That's part of the purpose of missions like this-to prevent war. But I'm afraid that's more up to the Cardassians than to us." Kathryn felt Justin Tighe stir next to her. "Sir," he asked-and he didn't sound quite so confident now-"do these... Rangers... know each other? Or are they all in the dark as much as we are?"

  "They know each other. It's important that they be able to function as a unit, and they've been training toward that end for over a year. But I assure you they are also so grounded in scientific technique that you will be unable to single them out."