Star Trek - Voy - Mosaic

by Mosaic

  Until the dreadful accident. She saw in her mind's eye the sun's unexpected eruption-undoubtedly a continuation of the shedding of matter from its atmosphere, the very process which created the nebula in which they had taken refuge-and the havoc it created in the planet's atmosphere. She envisioned the consternation in the population and their desperate plan to save the Tokath, the fierce creatures which had kept them safe from harm for so long....

  Her eyes opened and she saw the bridge crew watching her, patiently, trustingly. And as though their confidence were a vast wellspring of positive energy, feeding and nurturing her, the plan came to her. "Dr. Trakis, the environmental disaster that drove the Tokath into hibernation-it happened as this star was shedding its outer atmosphere?" The Trabe looked at her curiously. "That's my understanding. A massive eruption near the star's equator sent a dense cloud of plasma directly at the planet, ionizing its atmosphere."

  Janeway turned to Chakotay. "We can cause an eruption like that. Re-create the event that sent the Tokath into hibernation."

  She could see Chakotay take the idea and work it over in his mind. "Our energy systems are pretty much depleted. I'm not sure how we'd be able to create such a massive eruption."

  "A narrow nadion beam, focused on an instability in the star's photosphere, might initiate a chain reaction."

  "I wouldn't want to be anywhere in the neighborhood of an explosion like that."

  "We won't be. We'll go to warp as soon as the instability goes critical."

  "What about the away team? Will they be in any danger?"

  "If we time the eruption with the rotation rate of the star, we should be able to create a plasma ejection that grazes the planet's outer atmosphere, but doesn't ionize it. That should be enough to scare the Tokath back into hibernation."

  He grinned at her. It was a desperate, seat-of-the-pants plan, full of jeopardy with no guarantee of success, and she knew Chakotay was aware of that. And loved it anyway. "What are we waiting for?" he quipped. And so they set to the task, making the critical calculations necessary to time this bold maneuver. Chakotay scanned his console intently, then reported, "I'm noting a gravitational instability in the photosphere."

  "Rollins, target the nadion beam to those coordinates."

  "Targeting." And the deep blue nadion beam sprang from the ship and knifed into the burning gases of the yellow star. Janeway imagined the process, as the nadions collided with the particles of the sun: hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium. Each tiny collision would produce more collisions, which would in turn create still more, fusing atoms and generating heat energy-a quickly spreading chain reaction that would gather immense power in a matter of seconds, further disturbing the gravitational instability until it must release the massive energy buildup.

  "Three hundred megajoules per cubic meter and rising, Captain," said Rollins tersely. "Four hundred ten... four ninety... five hundred thirty... six hundred-it's going critical."

  "Go to warp, Mr. Paris."

  Tom worked the controls swiftly and the ship leapt into warp just ahead of the monumental nuclear explosion. When they were at a safe distance, they put the distant star on screen at highest magnification. It was an awesome sight. The force of the chain reaction exceeded by many times the energy of a warp-core explosion. Arcs of plasma hundreds of thousands of kilometers long projected from the corona in a promethean display of power, as though a giant were flinging huge fireballs through the heavens.

  Not one word was spoken on the bridge as the eruptions continued. When, finally, they began to subside, Janeway turned to Rollins. "Do sensors detect any life signs around the planet?"

  "Going to extreme long-range sensors... I'm reading life signs... and Captain-it looks like they're in retreat."

  "What are the atmospheric conditions on the planet?"

  "There's a lot of high-altitude turbulence. Radiation levels are rising."

  "Chakotay, will our shields protect us if we move in to investigate?"

  "We won't be able to call on the metaphasic program, but I think we can channel enough energy to the main shields to be safe."

  "Then let's do it. Mr. Paris, move us in, slowly, toward the planet. Be ready to get out fast."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  And the sleek ship turned to and headed back toward the system, Janeway keeping careful watch over radiation levels, until they could put the planet on high magnification and get an image on the viewscreen. What they saw brought the first hope, the first semblance of joy they'd had in hours. A stream of brown, shelled bodies was flowing toward the surface of the planet. The Tokath were going home.

  As Voyager- moved closer, the crew saw the Kazon ship, listing oddly, its hull riddled with cavities where the creatures had eaten through and descended into the ship. What happened then was best left to the imagination, but the pocked ship was undoubtedly now an orbiting graveyard. The Tokath were flooding toward the surface, the dark miasma retracing its path of the last hour. Janeway's gamble that they retained a memory of the disastrous conditions that had prevailed so long ago-but would seem like a recent event to them because they'd been in stasis-had apparently been validated.

  Their retreat, however, was just a first step in the ultimate goal: rescuing the away team. And as yet, Janeway had no clue as to their whereabouts or their condition. The nagging thought that they could have suffered the same fate as the Kazon was one she kept to one side of her mind. She'd come this far and she wasn't about to let quibbling doubts stop her now.

  Many of Tuvok's team had fallen into an exhausted slumber, the events of the last nine hours having taken a heavy toll. Tuvok and Kim, however, were determined to analyze and master the technology that was operative in this strange chamber, and to gain control over the entrance. They couldn't simply stay cooped up in this room forever; somehow, they had to find a way out of the underground labyrinth and make contact with Voyager. But so far, their efforts had been futile. Harry had tried every approach to alien technology he'd ever studied and quite a few that he invented there on the spot. And finally, he decided to try the one thing his scientific mind had rejected. "Sir," he said to Tuvok, "it's possible the technology is telepathically controlled. Maybe you could try accessing the program that's controlling this chamber."

  Tuvok's eyebrow lifted slightly, but he immediately put his fingers on the panel they believed to contain the controls, and brought his formidable Vulcan telepathic powers to bear on them. But after several minutes, he removed his hands and turned to Harry. "I am unable to make a telepathic connection," he stated.

  Harry moved immediately toward Kes, nestled in Neelix's arms, and roused her from a drowsy slumber. "What is it, Harry?" He repeated what he'd said to Tuvok, and Kes listened intently. "I'm not sure how to do that," she replied.

  "Neither am I. But you seemed to have some kind of intuitive connection to whatever was happening hereyou were drawn toward this room for no clear reason, you heard things..."

  She looked up at him, eyes troubled. "You're right. And I certainly heard the message the humanoid left. But I don't know about accessing a program-that's pretty specific. I wouldn't know how to start."

  "Maybe you could focus on the humanoid projection. It could be more of an interactive program than it first appeared-you might be able to get him to reappear. At least it's a beginning."

  She nodded, and wentto the panel that seemed to contain the controls. Harry saw her close her eyes and concentrate, frowning slightly with the effort. Minutes passed as Harry and Tuvok watched and waited, accompanied by the sonorous breathing of the sleeping crew. Occasionally, a flicker of something would seem to cross Kes' face, and the two men would become alert, watching for some indication that she was achieving success, but each time her features relaxed again into her pose of concentration.

  Finally, she opened her eyes and shook her head. "It's no use. I've tried every technique I know. When I wasn't trying, I seemed to get all these sensations, but I can't get them back now."

  No so
oner had those words left her lips than the holographic humanoid shimmered back into view, wings beating gently as before. Startled, Kes turned to him and refocused her concentration. Harry and Tuvok watched as she stood silently for a moment, listening, and then the hologram disappeared once more. Kes turned to them.

  "We have to leave," she said. "I don't exactly understand what's happening, but apparently the reawakening isn't supposed to happen now."

  "What does that mean?" wondered Harry, but Kes simply shook her head. "The message isn't exactly forthcoming with explanations. But we're invited back in the future-whenever the reawakening does occur."

  "No, thanks," said Harry immediately, but at that moment something else drew their attention.

  The door had reappeared in the wall, open and beckoning. Tuvok moved toward it, phaser drawn, hand held up to warn the others to stay back. He approached the door and lifted his wrist beacon, pressed the control, and saw the beam penetrate the darkness of the stairwell outside. He saw nothing. He took a few cautious steps into the stairwell and played the light up the stairs. Still, nothing. He looked back at the crew. "Follow me. Keep your weapons at the ready and stay tightly grouped."

  And in this fashion they proceeded back up the stairs, scanning constantly, mounting step after step, forgetting how far they had originally descended and marveling that they seemed to climb upward forever. The air in the stairwell was pleasantly cool and fresh, a relief after the stuffy confines of the chamber.

  Eventually they reached the level of the corridors, and Tuvok began leading them according to the path markers stored in his tricorder, winding this way and that, retracing the path they had taken while searching for Harry and Kes.

  They'd been walking like that for ten minutes when Tuvok heard a distant noise. He held his hand for silence, then ordered., "Shut off your beacons."

  Thirty lights snapped out, leaving them once more encased in the blackest darkness. And like that they waited in apprehension as a faint but ominous whirring sound drew closer and closer. Harry felt his breathing deepen and his hands grow clammy: What was that sound? Some new and horrible menace to threaten their lives? It was an awful sensation to stand perfectly still in a darkness so complete not one glimmer of light penetrated it, not one feature of the person immediately ahead visible, and to listen to the approaching sound of an unknown threat.

  He could hear the breathing of the entire team, frozen in their places, tensing, ready for anything. The sound grew louder and louder, until he knew whatever it was must be almost upon them. The next sensation any of them had was of waves of pulsing air brushing by them, soft flutterings as something swept past on either side of them, whirring loudly, but paying no attention whatsoever to the crew which stood, rooted, in their path. Streams of beings skimmed around them, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, an endless current swarming through the labyrinthine passageways of this underground sanctuary. The crew stood like that, immobilized, for the strangest half hour any of them had ever spent, uncertain as to what exactly was happening, surmising that they were being skirted like water around a rock by the Tokath-the same creatures who had attacked when they emerged from the walls-and wondering if it was only a matter of time before one or more of the beings decided to renew the assault and turn this section of the corridor into bloodsoaked carnage. But the Tokath seemed uninterested in the humanoids who stood in their habitat. They continued their headlong rush down the passageway as the crew demonstrated its remarkable self-discipline by standing absolutely still, silent and unflinching. Eventually, the headlong flight came to an end, and the last of the whirring creatures swam around them. Only then did Tuvok cautiously turn on his beacon and begin to lead his team out of the maze, watching in amazement as the creatures settled themselves into the gelatinous walls like eggs encased in aspic, then seeing the gelatin begin to coalesce, and harden, until by the time they reached the original staging area the walls were as hard and stonelike as they had formerly appeared. The ramps that led to the surface were down, and a dim light filtered in, revealing a carpet of dead Tokath. A quick scan revealed no Kazon life signs above, and Tuvok led the group, running now, toward the surface and out of the dank underground which had been their prison for so many hours. Neelix turned to Tuvok. "You've done an excellent job, Mr. Vulcan. And there's a little token of my appreciation waiting for you on Voyager right now." And Neelix could almost taste the nocha cake at that moment. When they emerged, dusk had fallen, signaling an end to this extraordinary day. The growing darkness muted only slightly a horrible scene: there were dead Kazon everywhere, mutilated and eviscerated. Flies and insects had already begun the inevitable process of gleaning them, and the dreadful stench of death filled the air. But the crew barely had time to react before they began, one by one, to dematerialize.

  When Chakotay and Rollins reported simultaneously that they had detected the crew's life signs on the surface, Janeway immediately ordered them transported to the ship. She didn't want to take any more chances, didn't want to take the time for them to launch the shuttles and ascend to Voyager; both crew and shuttles could be beamed aboard easily enough. And when the transporter chief reported that all hands were safely on board, Janeway felt a moment of giddy relief. The crisis was over. "Mr. Paris, resume course for the Alpha Quadrant," she said, and noted that her voice sounded hollow in her ears. She rose, heading for the Turbolift to meet the away team in sickbay, when she noticed everyone on the bridge was staring at her. Uncertain, she stopped, looking from one crewman to the other. Chakotay's dark eyes peered at her intently, and for a brief moment she wondered if she appeared ill. were they concerned about her? Was she showing the strain and fatigue this ordeal had produced? But they were thinking something very different. Chakotay rose to his feet, lifted his hands and began, softly and slowly, to clap them. She found herself puzzled by this action, then looked toward Tom Paris as he followed the lead, stood, and began to applaud. Then the entire bridge crew joined in, honoring her in the age-old fashion, signaling their respect, admiration, and gratitude for the captain who had once again brought them all through danger and into safe harbor. As she realized what they were doing, her eyes began to sting. She deserved no applause for simply being what she was. All she had done was to carve one more pattern in the mosaic of her identity, that constantly unfolding design which had been growing, square by square, since she was a baby, and which was becoming more intricate with each passing year. The design was not of her own choosing; it was etched by the circumstances of life, which she could not control, and by her relationships with others. Her mosaic was multi-hued, many-textured, and infinitely complex. Swirled in its design were the people she had loved and those she had disliked, events that traumatized and those that pacified, experiences that had challenged her limits and those that had rewarded her unconquerable spirit. The mosaic would continue to grow, its unfolding an infinite mystery, blending sorrow and ecstasy, dappling the pathway of her life with sunlight and shadow until, in the final moment, the design was complete. With the applause of the bridge officers still ringing in her ears, Kathryn Janeway went to welcome back the crew whose lives she had saved.

  The End