Star Trek - Voy - Mosaic

by Mosaic

  And now it was his turn to look Kathryn in the eye. "If it is left to the individual to decide which rules are to be followed, and on what schedule, then the rules cease to have meaning. The only possible result is anarchy. The smooth functioning that Captain Janeway speaks of so eloquently does not come spontaneously; it comes at a cost and that cost must be paid." Kathryn felt the eyes of the three admirals on her. "Anything else, Captain?" queried Finnegan. She took a breath and, still staring at Tuvok, rebutted. "By its nature, the captaincy of a ship on a deep-space mission requires flexible discretionary powers. A captain must be able to confront unexpected circumstances and have enough leeway to respond appropriately. Slavish adherence to rules can undermine the very individuality that has made the finest of Starfleet officers so outstanding. Again-if the safety of the ship and crew is not compromised, surely I have the latitude to apportion time as I see fit." There was a long silence which neither Kathryn nor Tuvok tried to fill. Admiral Finnegan sat back in his chair. "If neither of you has anything more, you're excused while we confer. Please wait in the corridor." Kathryn and Tuvok nodded, then turned to exit. She could feel her adrenaline pumping, fueled by anger and determination. They took seats on opposite sides of the corridor; Kathryn felt a lock of hair fall across her eye and she jerked it back. Damn her hair! She had to find a style that wouldn't betray her, something that was neat, and professional. The irrationality of worrying about her hair at a time like this suddenly struck her, and she heard herself chuckle aloud. Tuvok looked up at her. "Captain?" he queried politely.

  "Nothing," she retorted. She wasn't about to tell this arrogant Vulcan about her problems with her hair. She was sure he would find it utterly capricious that the subject would enter her mind at this moment. But apparently he didn't need her help in commenting on the human condition. "It is intriguing to me," he intoned, "that humans so often use that term to indicate its exact opposite."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "At the very moment when there is clearly "something' of some import affecting the individual, he or she will say that "nothing' is bothering them. I am curious as to why that would be."

  Irritation was added to the other emotions Kathryn was experiencing. "It's a way of protecting our privacy. I don't necessarily want to share my innermost thoughts just because someone wants to know what they are." Her voice sounded harsh, even to herself.

  But Tuvok merely reflected on her statement, then finally nodded. "I see. Thank you, Captain. That does clarify the matter." His manner was mild and thoughtful, and Kathryn thought she had never encountered anyone so annoying.

  The door opened and Admiral Paris stood there, beckoning to them. "You can come in now," he said. They returned to their seats, not making eye contact as Admiral Finnegan spoke.

  "You are both eloquent and persuasive speakers," he began. "We all thought we'd enjoy hearing you engaged in formal debate." He smiled slightly at the prospect and the other admirals followed suit. "However, our purpose today is not to assess debating skills." He turned to Kathryn. "Captain, you completed your first mission in fine style, and I'm entering a commendation from Admiral Paris into your record; he feels the pulsar data you compiled is of extreme value."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "You show all the potential to become an able captain, indeed. However, Mr. Tuvok here is quite right in his insistence that tactical regulations not be ignored because of your interpretation of Starfleet's charter. From now on, you're to stick to the rules."

  "Yes, sir." Kathryn was stung by the rebuke, but swallowed her feelings. "However, we had a thought which might serve everyone's best interests. We've been looking for a suitable post for Ensign Tuvok, who is eager to return to deep space. We've decided to assign him to your ship to serve as tactical officer on your next mission."

  Kathryn couldn't believe what she was hearing. This imperious, condescending man on her bridge? This stickler for rules on her senior stall? What could Admiral Finnegan be thinking?

  "We think you might balance each other well." He looked at Kathryn and his merry eyes crinkled at the edges. "And you'd be sure your tactical drills would never go undone." He paused, then looked at them both. "Well? What do you think?"

  "I would be honored to accept such a post," said Tuvok immediately. Kathryn felt Finnegan's gaze shift to her. "I'd like some time to think it over, sir," she replied.

  The admiral nodded genially. "Take all the time you'd like, Captain. But realize-this decision has been made."

  The three admirals gazed implacably at her and she felt the blood rise to her face. "I see. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. May we be excused now?" Finnegan nodded, and she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, back erect. They could force this annoying officer on her, but they couldn't make her like him, or treat him with anything other than the disdain with which he treated her. With any luck, after this one mission everyone would realize the pairing was a dreadful mistake and Tuvok would be sent off to serve on a ship that was commanded by a Vulcan-someone who would believe his imperiousness to be an asset. Because she certainly never would.

  CHAPTER 23

  ALL THE BRIDGE CREW STARED IN ASTONISHMENT AT THE viewscreen, watching as the brown cloud rose from the planet, all but obscuring it from view. It was densely thick, a solid mass of undulating matter that spread relentlessly from the planet's surface, through the atmosphere, and into space, toward the two ships now poised in anticipation, their own conflict forgotten for the moment.

  "Captain," whispered Trakis, voice hoarse with anxiety, "you must go. Now. Quickly. They'll overwhelm the ship. They emit a caustic substance which will gradually neutralize your shields and then eat through your hull. They'll be inside the ship in an hour and they'll kill everything that moves."

  As she watched the approach of the brown sludge, Janeway was tempted to agree. There was something almost unbearably ominous about this vast aggregate. Her ship was in peril.

  But so was her away team. She turned to Trakis, who had gone pale at the approach of the Tokath. "Is there a way to repel them?"

  "I don't know of any. They're relentless-it's impossible to destroy them all. You might kill thousands, but they just keep coming."

  Janeway watched as the umber cloud rose higher and higher, gaining definition now, a roiling mass of organic matter in which one could begin to distinguish discrete forms. They vaguely reminded Janeway of beetles, one of the most abundant life-forms on Earth, except that they were much larger and, of course, had apparently adapted to survive in space. The scientist in her had a curious fascination about these beings, but her command instincts told her they posed a greater threat to Voyager than the most technologically advanced starship.

  "Captain, you can outrun them-they can't travel at warp. It's the only way to survive," said Trakis, who was still pallid and shaken. Janeway turned on him.

  "Dr. Trakis, you have some value on the bridge because you know something about these creatures. But if you don't stop trying to persuade me to leave, I'll have you escorted to quarters. Because I'm not going anywhere. I intend to use the distraction of the Tokath to get past the Kazon and down to my crew on the planet." She was pleased to see Trakis go an even paler shade at this. "Do we understand each other?" He nodded, and she continued. "Is conventional weaponry effective against them?"

  "Yes. But there are simply too many of them. When your weapons arrays are drained of energy, they'll still be coming."

  "I have no wish to slaughter creatures who are only acting on instinct." Janeway turned and addressed Rollins.

  "Voyager may have a few tricks that ships in the Delta Quadrant lack. Rollins, prepare a polaron emission. Maybe that will make us less attractive to them."

  But sudden activity on the viewscreen caught their attention, and Janeway heard an audible gasp from the Trabe physician. Tom Paris turned to her. "Captain, the Kazon ship is attacking them."

  And so they were. Weapons fire burst from the ship and plunged into the mass of writhing brown bod
ies. Hundreds of them incinerated instantly, but within seconds it was as though nothing had happened: the powerful surge of creatures continued unabated. The Kazon ship unleashed a ruinous fire, and Tokath by the thousands disintegrated before their eyes. But more kept coming. The crew of Voyager watched in stunned silence as the Kazon kept up its unending volley, lacerating wave after wave of the beetle-like creatures with absolutely no appreciable effect. The brown mass rose steadily through space, coming closer and closer to the two ships. "Maybe they'll focus their attention on the Kazon, since they're the ones attacking," ventured Paris, and Janeway acknowledged that she was thinking the same thing. Trakis emitted a short, derisive laugh but apparently thought better of speaking his thoughts aloud, and subsided into anxious silence.

  The Tokath validated Paris and Janeway. As soon as the Kazon began attacking them, the swarm careened toward their ship, concentrating its advance on the aggressor. That was all Janeway needed to act. "Mr. Rollins, is that polaron emission ready?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Begin releasing it. Mr. Paris, prepare to descend to the planet's surface and land. Let's take it nice and easy."

  "Aye, Captain. Blue alert."

  The alarm sounded for the rarely used blue alert, and an azure wash permeated the bridge.

  "I've plotted a descent course," said Paris. "I'll try to bring us down within two kilometers of the away team's landing site."

  "All decks report Condition Blue," announced Chakotay. Paris's hands danced over controls. "Atmospheric controls at standby. Landing mechanisms on-line. Inertial dampers at maximum."

  Gently, the ship descended. The Tokath, streaming toward the Kazon ship, seemed to ignore Voyager and focus on the Kazon, who were still butchering them by the thousands.

  "So far, so good," murmured Paris. "Thanks to the Kazon, we might just pull this off."

  Janeway glanced over at Trakis, and noted that he seemed no more encouraged by this maneuver than he had been earlier. He was watching the viewscreen intently, perspiration moistening his brow, which was furrowed in anticipation of dire consequences.

  Slowly they sank, as though through a pit of dark tar, eddies of mottled bodies swirling around them, streaming past, sliding off their shields as if they were oiled. It reminded Janeway of her diving days, descending through a dense school of fish, silvered bodies gliding effortlessly around her. It was always a pacifying feeling, and she tried to re-create that sense of calm now.

  "Altitude one thousand kilometers, Captain," said Paris. "Nine hundred seventy kilometers and still dropping."

  Chakotay spoke from her side. "I'm reading our shuttles on the surface-and a Kazon shuttle. But no Kazon life signs."

  "What about our people?"

  "No signs, Captain."

  "Acknowledged."

  And still they descended, through the ionosphere and into the mesosphere, and still the Tokath streamed upward. How many could there be? wondered Janeway. And would they all have left the surface by the time Voyager was ready to land? That would be key to rescuing her people. It was disconcerting to hear that Chakotay couldn't detect life signs even as they drew nearer the surface, but she had to count on Tuvok's having found shelter. She was convinced that success was just minutes away. The first contraindication to that assumption was a seemingly insignificant one. Rollins's voice was calm as he noted, "I'm reading a minor disruption to the shields, aft port ventral."

  "Nature of the disruption?"

  "Unknown. If it's the Tokath, they aren't doing much damage."

  "Increase the level of the polaron emission."

  "Aye. Now at maximum."

  They descended silently for a minute more, and then Rollins spoke again, this time more urgently. "Captain, I'm reading further disruption to the shields. This time more widespread."

  "The Tokath?"

  "I think so-I'm reading life signs penetrating the shields. Aft port ventral is beginning to degrade."

  "Ready a positron charge. Maybe we can shake them loose."

  "Ready, Captain."

  The viewscreen showed an amber flash, and a momentary reaction from the swarm of bodies that surrounded them. They recoiled briefly but then resumed their swarm. Hundreds of mottled green underbellies coated the shields, spewing black venom that would eventually eat its way through to the hull. She could sense Trakis next to her, breathing deeply, seeing his demise before him.

  "It's over, Captain," he rasped. "Once they attach, they don't let go. We're all dead."

  Paris glanced up at her, as though waiting for orders. But what orders could she give? If what Trakis said was true, it didn't matter if they retreated or not.

  On the other hand, if they no longer perceived Voyager as a threat to the planet, there was the possibility they would lose interest. "Captain, the shields are degrading pretty rapidly," said Chakotay. "Down to sixty-three percent and falling."

  Janeway acted. "Mr. Paris, abort landing sequence. Set a course away from the planet."

  "Aye, Captain. Standing down blue alert."

  Now they reversed course, and swam with the Tokath, rising swiftly through the mesosphere and ionosphere, and soon breaking orbital velocity. They had a brief glimpse of the Kazon ship-or rather, the shape of the Kazon ship- covered with the writhing hard-shelled bodies of the Tokath. It reminded Janeway of a visit to Georgia she'd made as a child, where she saw an entire forest covered in a vine called kudzu. She could see only the shapes of trees underneath the all-encompassing vine, which had blanketed every surface in its path.

  The Kazon ship was no longer firing weapons, and was listing randomly, apparently powerless. Voyager streamed past it, and finally broke free of the swarm of Tokath, which was clustered between the planet and the Kazon ship. They watched intently to see if any of the creatures followed them. After a few moments, Paris ventured, "it doesn't look like any more are coming after us, Captain."

  "But the ones on our shields aren't letting go," added Chakotay. "Shields now down to forty-seven percent."

  "Reroute power from the weapons and propulsions systems to reinforce the shields."

  "Yes, ma'am," responded Rollins crisply. But in a few moments Chakotay reported that the move hadn't helped much. "Shields still degrading. Now at forty-one percent... thirty-eight..."

  "Captain, at this rate they'll penetrate the hull in another eight minutes."

  Janeway's mind raced. What could she use to pry these sticky creatures off her shields? They were stuck there like wood ticks, and soon they'd be working on the hull.

  Wood ticks... the image resonated in her mind. Getting rid of wood ticks...

  She put a hand on Paris's shoulder. "Lieutenant, set a course for the primary star of this system. We're going to burn those things off our shields."

  Paris grinned and immediately went into action. Trakis looked over at her, and she thought she detected a faint smile from him, as well. "You're remarkably courageous, Captain," he conceded. "I admire that in you-even if it accomplishes nothing."

  "We'll see," Janeway snapped, tired of this Trabe physician and his negativity. But then the viewscreen began to emanate a golden glow, and all eyes moved toward it.

  The fiery disk of the yellow star loomed ahead of them, somewhat obscured by the bodies of the Tokath, growing larger as Voyager approached. "Distance fifty thousand kilometers," announced Paris. "Hull temperature rising, now at two thousand degrees Celsius. Radiation levels at twenty rads per minute," chimed in Rollins. Chakotay moved next to Janeway. "Shields are down to twenty-six percent. We won't be able to get much closer."

  "Maybe we won't have to. It's hotter for them than it is for us."

  The ship raced still closer to the star, and Janeway realized they could feel a temperature difference already. Their degraded shields just weren't protecting them from the massive heat generated by the star-and yet the Tokath showed no signs of distress, no indication that they were going to let loose of their death hold on the ship.

  "Hull temperature at tw
elve thousand degrees and climbing. Radiation at forty rads per minute."

  "Distance, ten thousand kilometers."

  "Hold us here, Mr. Paris," said Janeway. It was definitely getting hot on the bridge. She could feel the closeness of the air, the perspiration dampening her face, and she saw the others becoming flushed. "What's the temperature in the cabin?" she asked, and Rollins, voice a bit breathy, answered, "Fifty-five degrees C."

  "How can they survive the heat? Why aren't they dropping off?" Chakotay asked, frustrated.

  "They've adapted to so many environments we have to assume extreme heat must be one of them," suggested Trakis. "But there has to be a limit as to how long they can withstand temperatures of this level."

  "Shields now at nineteen percent and dropping."

  Minutes passed as the bridge crew became more and more debilitated, and the Tokath maintained their tenacious hold on the ship. Officers were slumped in their chairs, mopping dripping foreheads, gasping for air. Janeway realized they couldn't go much longer like this, and she turned to Chakotay.