Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide

by Kirsten Beyer

  She was alone, but for the presence of her godson. And yet it seemed as she grew more accustomed to her new environment that the potential for life within this place was infinite.

  “You are the Q who wished to see me,” Kathryn realized. Until this moment she had assumed every reference his mother had made during their encounters prior to and since her death to “Q” was to her husband, rather than her son.

  “I am, Aunt Kathy,” he replied, the need that flowed from him disturbing the gentleness that enveloped her.

  “I would help you if I could,” Kathryn said, “though how there is anything I might do for you, that you cannot do well enough for yourself, is difficult to imagine.”

  “I know,” Q offered, “but surely you are beginning to sense that as you exist now, there are many options available to you that were not when you were alive.”

  Kathryn knew the truth of his words. But she did not understand how the tenuous connection she now felt to both the living universe and the exponentially greater power that still beckoned to her from beyond it would give her any power that could rival a Q.

  “This is a moment that every sentient mortal creature experiences,” he answered her unspoken question. “It usually occurs for an infinitesimal period immediately following their death.”

  “How long have I been dead?” Kathryn wanted to know.

  “Longer than a fraction of a second,” he confirmed. “My mother graciously extended the time normally allowed so that we could speak.”

  “To what are you speaking?” Kathryn asked.

  “All that you ever were, are, and will be,” Q explained. “This is you, Aunt Kathy, unbound by the limits of physical reality. Were you to remain like this indefinitely, you might begin to understand what it is to be Q.”

  “I hope you’re not planning to offer me membership in the Continuum,” Kathryn said, perturbed.

  “No,” he reassured her. “That is not within my power.”

  “There is very little that is not within a Q’s power,” Kathryn pointed out.

  “I would not be allowed to offer it, and I am certain the rest of the Continuum would not agree to it,” he clarified.

  “Then, why am I here?”

  “Something is wrong with me, Aunt Kathy.”

  “Something that your parents or the rest of the Q cannot fix?” she asked, amazed by the notion.

  “I believe so.”

  Kathryn stretched her senses to their limits and found no trace of deception in him.

  “You’re afraid of something?” she asked, pinpointing the strongest sensation pouring through him. “What in the universe could a Q fear?”

  “The multiverse,” he corrected her. “When you lived, you experienced a single thread of reality. But you knew then, and know now, how many additional strands form the entirety of what is.”

  Kathryn had always hated anything related to temporal mechanics. She found, to her surprise, that in this place, the many facts of time and reality and the way they interacted were less confusing than they had once been.

  This isn’t . . . The voice of her greater consciousness again attempted to force its urgency upon her.

  “Tell me what you fear, and quickly,” Kathryn said.

  “You won’t understand unless I share it with you.”

  She wasn’t sure she understood the distinction. Then, in what might have been a second, or a thousand lifetimes, Kathryn felt the sum total, as well as every individual piece, of this Q’s experience of the multiverse descend upon her like a crushing wave. His reality merged into hers, and everything she would have asked, every lesson, every test, every triumph, and every terror became theirs.

  She experienced her death countless times and in so many various manners that shock had no choice but to give way to numb acceptance. He had visited each of these deaths, witnessed them, and counted them, until nothing but the absolute end of her existence was real. The horror of it submerged beneath the oddness of it. Like him, she found herself puzzling over, and was somewhat insulted by, the seeming insistence of the multiverse that she be erased from all time.

  Briefly, she touched the absolute freedom he had once known. She gloried in the truth of what it was to be Q as infinity yawned before her in all of its terrible beauty. She knew the Q, Amanda, who had become a treasured companion and shared his unimaginable confusion as the unknown extinguished her light.

  But none of this prepared her for the darkness. She sensed his desire to spare her what he could of its nature, but she opened herself to what he would have hidden from her. Her deaths had been nothing compared to the finality this darkness promised. It was neither more nor less than absence; it was an ending beyond what she sensed awaited her once this had passed. It was a silence so profound, an emptiness so vast, that it threatened to crush her essence beneath its absolute magnitude. In this place, Kathryn had not lived and died countless horrible deaths. Here, neither Kathryn nor Q nor anything they had ever experienced as real had ever been.

  Only his strength dragged her clear of the abyss. Even once she had returned safely to the tranquil depths of the Continuum, it took Kathryn time before she could summon the will to unravel where and what she had just been.

  “Are you all right, Aunt Kathy?” Q prodded gently.

  At this, an incongruous laugh erupted from the center of her being. When it had settled, she replied, “I think I haven’t been all right for a very long time, and doubt now that I ever will be again.”

  “Please don’t be angry with me,” Q said, and in that instant, he was once again the fragile, awkward boy she had once known and mentored. His concern for her washed around her like a gentle breeze. It gratified her to know that the effort she had expended on his behalf had not been wasted.

  “I’m not angry,” Kathryn replied. “I understand now the gravity of the threat you perceive, not just to yourself, but to the entire multiverse. I’m glad you felt you could bring this to me, but I confess I’m still at something of a loss to imagine what I might do to help you.”

  “Would it comfort you to know that I believe you have already done it?”

  “I suppose it would, if I understood how that was possible.”

  “I don’t believe it was always this way. The only way you become a key strand in this tangled web is by your own actions, or lack thereof.”

  Kathryn was struggling to keep up. “You believe that all of this is connected to the choice Admiral Janeway made when she altered time.” Suddenly, the entire picture snapped into focus. “You believe that something she encountered, and resolved, prior to turning time inside out was undone by her later actions. The multiverse has now been forced to extreme measures to correct the inherent imbalance her actions created.”

  “You always were a quick study,” he commended her.

  This isn’t right.

  “Be quiet,” Kathryn ordered her better angels. Until now they had pleaded the case of her highest self. At this moment, she found them annoying, and was struck by the remembrance of how often this had also been true when she was alive.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” she assured him. “We have more than one problem before us right now, and the truth is, I’m not certain which is more pressing.”

  “Shall I complicate things further for you then?” he asked.

  The laughter was building again within her. It was sad how limited her appreciation of the absurd used to be.

  “I see the truth in what you have shown me, Q,” Kathryn said, trying to bring order to what was quickly unraveling into chaos. “I understand that her actions, my actions,” she was forced to acknowledge, “might have had unforeseen consequences. But there is a part of me that also knows that my role in this is done. Indeed, the multiverse seems quite adamant on that point. And much as I would like to spare you the terror you now confront, I am reminded that to act in any way now in opposition to the forces compelling me to move beyond this might only make t
hings worse.”

  “That really is the question,” he agreed. “And powerful as my mother is, I, too, understand that this artificial prolonging of what should be inevitable cannot continue indefinitely. Allow me to present you with your options.”

  “I have options?” Kathryn asked, surprised.

  “Two.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” she replied, though she doubted “simple” would have anything to do with whatever he was about to propose.

  “You can, as you are undoubtedly aware, choose to release yourself from this moment into whatever is beyond mortal life. I don’t know what that is, but I also doubt that your sense of it is misguided. It might be beckoning you to oblivion, or to a marvelous plane of existence that the Q are denied by virtue of our immortality.”

  The thought that she might be going to a place the Q could not know saddened her as much as it comforted her.

  “You can leave this problem to the forces already in motion, trusting that whatever is to come for me—and all those still living—will be the best possible outcome. The significance of your death cannot be in doubt. No other mortal’s death has stretched across time as yours does. You can decide that this is, as it now should be, for the greater good of all.”

  “Or?” Kathryn asked.

  “Or you can return to your life, certain that you possess within you the power to do what you once did, to prevent this darkness. You beat it once, Aunt Kathy, and I trust you more than the unnamed and random forces of the multiverse to do whatever it is that must be done to beat it again.”

  “I can return to life? Your mother said that was impossible.”

  “She was referring to the fact that it is forbidden for a Q to do this for you.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “It is not, however, forbidden for a Q to show you how to do it for yourself.”

  Kathryn pondered the question before her more deeply than any she had ever faced.

  Finally she asked, “Are you sure there isn’t a third option?”

  Chapter Twelve

  TARKON SENTRY VESSEL ABRACUS

  “Opportunity detected,” the computer’s sonorous male voice stated, followed by a series of blips as the “opportunity” was thoroughly scanned.

  Senior Acquisitions Executive Culbret immediately activated the display. The scan results appeared, scaled for size, in three dimensions in the dedicated viewing area just beyond the carrier’s forward flight control station. The carrier’s pilot and four other acquisition specialists focused their attention on the display. The specialists simultaneously fed the salient features of the vessel as well as the estimated value of each of its component parts to the pilots of Abracus’s capture ships.

  It had been more than eight cycles since Culbret had detected the first opportunity coming within range of his sentry pool: the vessel identifying itself as the Federation Starship Voyager. The acquisitions executive still tasted the filth spat from his belly when that ship had escaped his pool, summoning speed as it ran, clearly using subspace alterations the Tarkons had yet to master. The sums lost in its abrupt departure had been staggering. Should news of it reach the Board, he might face demotion—or worse, distribution of all of his current assets among his junior specialists.

  The opportunity now before him, a much smaller ship with impressive tactical capabilities, would not be so lucky.

  “Vessel class unknown. Signature match to vessel self-designated as Federation,” his computer advised. “Estimated total value of components intact, one thousand nine hundred seventy-six notes, less permanent resettlement costs associated with transfer of the pilot. At scrap, six hundred twenty-three notes.”

  “Did you stray too far from your mother ship?” Culbret asked softly of the lone ship that had just emerged from the edge of the nebula that blanketed seven sectors of Tarkon space, including the fringes of the system that held their newest resettlement planet. His previous scans of Federation Starship Voyager had detected smaller craft within the larger ship’s holds, but none that matched the specifications of the vessel now before him. Part of a convoy? Losing its bearings within the nebula was understandable. The cursed thing played hell with Culbret’s sensors as well, but also provided a certain welcome privacy for the Tarkon’s work in this newly claimed sector.

  The acquisitions executive hoped the vessel—whose course would soon take it out of the system along a similar route Federation Starship Voyager had taken while fleeing—was not alone. It was a worthy opportunity and had already transgressed by entering Tarkon space. The vessel’s ordnance would be a welcome addition to his assets, and this ship would be no trouble at all to capture. Culbret welcomed the chance to seize more like it, should they be hovering within the outskirts of the nebula.

  “Set course to intercept,” Culbret ordered, and his pilot immediately altered course.

  “Capture ships, prepare to detach.”

  The single vessel, now so far from its fellows, was a small prize, but one that would at least partially satisfy the hunger left by the earlier loss of Federation Starship Voyager. Culbret briefly considered hailing the ship, advising it of its trespass, and giving it a chance to surrender without incident, then opted against giving away Abracus’s presence too soon.

  Not that it mattered. Within minutes, the ship would be his.

  VOYAGER

  “The Tarkon vessel has moved into detached formation and is on course to intercept TS Flyer Thirteen,” Kim reported from tactical.

  Normally, Chakotay would have been able to see this for himself, but the nebula prevented clear visual transmissions, and until Voyager cleared it, they were relying on sensor data. Sensors were not functioning optimally within the nebula, but Conlon had devised several methods of compensation.

  Commander Drafar had suggested approaching the planet from the fringes of the nebula that surrounded the entire system. The tactic came with its share of difficulties, but it allowed the two larger Starfleet ships to come much closer to the planet than Voyager’s initial foray and remain essentially undetected. If all went as planned, the element of surprise might reduce casualties on both sides.

  At least Chakotay hoped so.

  “Voyager to Achilles,” Chakotay called.

  “Achilles here,” Drafar’s deep, resonant voice boomed through the open channel.

  “They’ve taken the bait.”

  “Of course they have,” Drafar replied.

  Chakotay stifled a chuckle as he waited for Kim to confirm that the next stage was proceeding as planned. He had heard of Drafar’s confidence in himself and his crew. He was learning that the stories paled a bit in comparison to the genuine article.

  “Confirming TS Flyers One through Twelve and Fourteen through Twenty-four have cleared the nebula and are moving to intercept the Tarkons,” Kim reported.

  The captain felt Tom tensing beside him, trying to hold himself motionless. Chakotay knew his first officer wanted to be in one of those TS Flyers.

  “The Tarkons are scrambling,” Kim reported, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice.

  “Take us to Red Alert,” Chakotay ordered. “Helm, prepare to engage, maximum impulse.”

  “Aye, sir,” Gwyn responded. She seemed to be chomping at the bit. “Course and heading confirmed.”

  “Achilles confirms ready as well,” Lasren advised from ops.

  Chakotay released a breath and was about to give the order to engage, when Kim called out, “Four additional Tarkon vessels have deployed in the area.” After a moment more, he added, “They have assumed detached formation.”

  “Keep a close eye on them, Harry,” Chakotay ordered. “The flyers need to hold their own for a few minutes, but if it looks like the Tarkons are getting the better of them, I need to know sooner rather than later.”

  “Understood, sir,” Kim replied firmly.

  Having never seen the TS Flyers in action, Chakotay hoped they were up to the task of defending Voyager and Achilles. Tom had nothi
ng but praise for the pilots and their sleek ships, but this was a type of battle in which Starfleet vessels did not traditionally engage. If they proved unequal to the task, Chakotay would be forced to order Voyager and Achilles to move in. The mission to rescue Riley’s people was a priority, but he would be damned if it came at the cost of twenty-four of Starfleet’s pilots.

  “Ensign Gwyn, engage,” Chakotay ordered. “Ensign Lasren, get us a visual of the fighting as soon as possible.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Lasren replied.

  Controlled chaos played out on the main viewscreen. Forty-nine ships moving at high impulse were engaged in a dogfight, illuminating the blackness of space with streaks of weapons fire. Chakotay had no sense of who might have the upper hand, but as long as the TS Flyers kept the Tarkons busy for another few minutes, the mission had a real chance of succeeding.

  The Tarkon vessels were not deploying their energy webs. Traces of bright yellow erupted from their forward weapons arrays, but none seemed to hit their targets. The TS Flyers had been launched from Achilles and held their position until the Tarkons had committed themselves to capturing what they believed was a single, helpless ship. Now, the twenty-four vessels were maneuvering in open space, and so far they had intentionally avoided destroying the Tarkons. Their fire had disabled several ships and succeeded in leading the Tarkons away from their resettlement planet. The Voyager crew now had the time they needed to execute their equally difficult portion of the task at hand.

  “Distance to Riley’s Planet?” Chakotay asked as the battle receded from the main viewscreen and the brownish sphere took its place.

  “Five minutes to transporter range,” Lasren replied.

  “B’Elanna?” Chakotay called.

  “We’re almost ready,” the fleet chief engineer’s voice replied.

  “You have four minutes,” Chakotay advised.

  “No problem,” B’Elanna said, her determination buoying Chakotay’s own.

  “Captain, two more Tarkon sentries have been disabled.”

  Chakotay wished he could tell them to keep up the good work.