Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide

by Kirsten Beyer

  Desperate to do some thing, Chakotay had instructed Seven and Patel to focus their efforts on a thorough analysis of the anomaly. Their latest report enumerated in stuporous detail all of the possibilities they had eliminated from consideration of what the anomaly was, but it contained nothing that might be helpful in restoring the trapped ships to normal space. The anomaly be damned. All Chakotay cared about was rescuing those ships.

  The Achilles had reached the trapped vessels, rescued the crews who had remained in normal space, and had reversed course to intercept Voyager. Chakotay hoped that they might already have discovered something his staff had failed to coax from the extremely limited data available. Surely, their next move was to mount a joint rescue mission to restore the ships to normal space.

  “Donner to Captain Chakotay.”

  “Go ahead,” Chakotay replied to his senior transport officer.

  “Captain Eden and her party are in her quarters. The fleet commander has asked that you join them there immediately.”

  “Acknowledged,” Chakotay replied, hurrying to the door and passing swiftly through the bridge.

  • • •

  “When was the last time you left your post?” the familiar, yet unexpected voice of Cambridge demanded of Seven. The answer was thirty-seven hours, twenty-nine minutes, and eight seconds, but the frustration Seven felt, coupled with her ongoing struggle to remain focused while her body was screaming for rest, left her unwilling to grant the counselor anything.

  “Why are you here?” she asked instead, without even turning to greet him. While she awaited his response, she continued to review the latest sensor reports of new fractures to the anomaly and map their likely event horizons through the region of space which Voyager had most recently traveled. “Surely someone somewhere requires your attention,” she added, in case he was about to decide to be intentionally obtuse.

  “I missed you too,” Cambridge replied, stepping beside her and placing a hand on the console she was operating as near hers as he dared.

  At this, Seven did turn to glance at him. She had observed him in numerous states of being in the few months they had worked together. The most common was the maddening and often condescending composure in which he spent the majority of his conscious hours. She had seen that composure strained when he lost himself in a particularly challenging problem, his petulance in performing tasks he felt were beneath him, and his impatience when he felt others were performing beneath their own capabilities.

  But only once had she witnessed actual wonder from him, and though she might now never tell him, that moment had been pivotal in her decision to risk a more intimate relationship with him. It had actually taken place in this room, the first time they had discovered the creature who later came to be identified as the “mother” of the Children of the Storm. In witnessing the birth of dozens of new thoughts from the entity, and Seven’s struggle to describe it, she had caught a glimpse of a capacity for genuine astonishment in him. That brief sense of what truly lay beneath his carefully crafted façade had intrigued Seven and left her determined to explore its depth and breadth.

  As she looked at him now, she was surprised to see that same oddly charming openness clear in his eyes.

  “Has the universe done something in the last few days you weren’t expecting?” she asked.

  “Apart from opening itself up and swallowing half our fleet?” he asked, without a trace of flippancy, then added, “Actually it has, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Seven considered for a moment whether or not the magnitude of this tragedy might have unlocked his soft center, but quickly dismissed the notion. The carnage before them was massive, but nothing compared to what the Federation had suffered only a few months earlier.

  “What is it?” Seven asked, now favoring him with her full attention, her scans forgotten for the first time in more than a day.

  Cambridge’s eyes left hers and gently moved over the rest of her face, as if he were trying to memorize it. As they did, a faint smile teased the corners of his mouth.

  “You’ve stood here without rest or sustenance ever since you first learned of this tragedy, haven’t you?” he asked, with something approaching reverence.

  “You already know the answer to that,” Seven replied. “Have you come to chastise me for not taking better care of myself when hundreds of our fellow officers require the best efforts I can possibly give them?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve come because I couldn’t bear to allow another moment to pass without seeing you again. And because I wanted to be sure I wasn’t wrong about something while I still have the chance.”

  “Explain.”

  Cambridge’s smile widened. “I can’t believe I missed it, but until now, I did. Of course it’s your fault. With so many fascinating topics to explore, we’ve still missed one of the most significant.”

  Seven’s deep sigh was enough to force him to clarify without being asked.

  “You’re so like her.”

  “Who?” Seven demanded.

  Cambridge didn’t answer. Instead, he cupped her chin in his right hand and drew her close. Despite the fact that Seven still had no idea who he was talking about, she stopped caring the moment their lips touched. The split second they parted, however, the brief spell was broken and the weight of the duty she had momentarily abandoned returned with crushing force.

  “It is inappropriate for us to engage in personal recreation while . . .” she began until he raised a gentle hand to stop her.

  “You’re right, of course,” he nodded. “I’ll leave you to it,” he added and turned to go. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Only once the doors had slid shut behind him did she realize that he had never answered her question. This was difficult to set aside, but after a few moments, she managed to return her full concentration to her scans.

  • • •

  As soon as the turbolift halted on Deck 3, Chakotay moved double-quick to Captain Eden’s quarters. His slowed his pace when he saw Eden and the Doctor waiting for him in the corridor. That was puzzling, but the looks on their faces as he approached only added to the mystery.

  “Captain?” he asked.

  “Chakotay.” Eden nodded stiffly.

  When she offered no explanation, he asked, “Are we holding briefings in the halls now?”

  “No,” Eden replied. He could see the weight of the disaster written on her face, along with something else. Fear, perhaps?

  “Then, shall we?” Chakotay asked as he moved toward the door.

  “Forgive me,” Eden replied, holding up a firm hand to halt his progress. “As you know, the Achilles was able to retrieve almost all of the crew aboard the Quirinal, Esquiline, Hawking, and Curie that were unaffected by their vessels’ entry into the anomaly. They were able to do so by storing the patterns of those they rescued in their transport buffers. I have ordered them to set course for the Alpha Quadrant to preserve those lives, since none of our remaining vessels can, even temporarily, quarter that many people.”

  This struck Chakotay with the force of a blow, but he nodded, quickly deciding that he would probably have reached the same conclusion.

  “Our next priority is to prevent further spread of the anomaly’s destructive potential and, if possible, to rescue our ships.”

  Chakotay might have reversed the order of those two agenda items, but was otherwise in complete agreement.

  “Right now, I need you to meet with the individual who is waiting for you in my quarters. In one hour, I expect both of you to join the senior staff in the briefing room, where we will discuss how to proceed.”

  As Cambridge was not standing in the hall, Chakotay assumed the counselor had something to discuss with him privately, but this odd protocol in arranging a meeting was unnerving. Chakotay was further disconcerted when the Doctor said, quite seriously, “I’ll be waiting right here in case you need me.”

  “Has something happened to Hugh?”
Chakotay asked.

  “He’s fine,” Eden replied. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

  Chakotay nodded and stepped forward, activating the door’s floor sensor. Whatever Cambridge had to tell him, Chakotay hoped it would justify both Captain Eden’s and the Doctor’s odd behavior.

  • • •

  In the few minutes Kathryn Janeway had been pacing the unfathomably large quarters reserved for the fleet commander, she had found it impossible to find a comfortable place to sit and await Chakotay’s arrival. That a suite of rooms created for any single officer on a ship Voyager’s size would have consisted of this much square footage was ridiculous. That it contained not a single comfortable chair bordered on criminal.

  She was nervous. There was no getting around it. The Doctor told her what he knew of Chakotay’s reaction to her death, and his recitation had troubled her deeply. On the one hand, she would have been hurt had her passing not been met with grief. But that anything could have brought about such a radical shift in Chakotay’s temperament, especially at a time when Starfleet’s needs were so great, mystified her. Despite the Doctor’s assurances that Chakotay had recently recovered his equilibrium and mended fences with all of their closest friends, Kathryn had no idea what to expect from him now, or who was about to walk through that door.

  Since the moment she had returned, Kathryn had been impatient to see Chakotay. Now, she wished she could postpone this meeting until the crisis she had come to avert had passed. There was so much to do, and so little time in which to do it. But before their work could begin, Chakotay, along with the rest of his senior staff, must learn the truth. She hoped they would greet this new reality with the same relief and joy the Doctor had expressed. Why she suddenly doubted that this would be the case, she couldn’t say.

  So focused was she on Chakotay’s imminent arrival, Kathryn missed the bright flash of light that accompanied Q’s return. She had been standing, facing a large wooden desk, her hands resting on its edge, attempting to collect her thoughts. When she lifted her eyes, Q was seated opposite her in the desk’s high-backed leather chair, his arms behind his head and his feet crossed on the desktop.

  “So, Kathy,” he asked without a hint of warmth, “how’s coming back to life treating you?”

  Immediately, Kathryn stepped back, as if to ward off an attack, but Q seemed to consider her patiently, almost compassionately.

  “Leave. Now,” she ordered, unable to deal with whatever fresh hell he was about to unleash upon her.

  He responded by dropping his feet and leaning forward, planting his elbows on the desk and resting his face in his hands. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Warn me? About what?”

  Q snapped his fingers, and instantly the view of stars that had filled the ports behind him was replaced by the sight of three of the fleet’s ships hanging dead in space. She briefly worried that he had moved Voyager to make his point, but the absence of the vibration of the impulse engines beneath her feet dispelled the illusion. He was tormenting her, but not placing the ship in immediate danger.

  Once this was settled in her mind, she considered the point of his little display.

  “You think this is my fault?” she asked incredulously.

  “There’s always a price,” he reminded her.

  Kathryn wanted to turn away, to run from the possibility that her choice might have caused this catastrophe. Instead, she remained resolutely still and said, “That may be, but this is more likely a symptom of the problem your son has asked me to help him solve than any sort of cosmic retribution.”

  Q shrugged as if he might actually agree with her. At his nonchalance, a new and truly horrible thought crossed Kathryn’s mind. “Come to think of it,” she went on, “this whole thing practically reeks of your particular brand of meddling. A completely inexplicable anomaly appears and nearly swallows four of our vessels whole? Tell me you didn’t arrange all of this as some sort of ridiculous demonstration just to prove your perverted point.”

  “Is it always about you, Kathy?” Q asked, unmoved by her suggestion.

  The glare she directed at him might have obliterated any lesser being on the spot.

  Sitting back, Q allowed, “I’ll admit, this does bear the faint fragrance of omnipotent action, but not ours.”

  “Do you know what this thing is?” Kathryn demanded.

  “Haven’t a clue.”

  “Would you tell me if you did?”

  “I would,” Q replied, and much as she hated to admit it, she believed him.

  “Space, subspace, and, for all we know, time itself have been ripped to shreds around this place and you’re not even a little curious about what’s happened here?” Kathryn asked in disbelief.

  “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now,” he said, his tone a bit sharper.

  “So you just came here to, what, gloat?” she asked.

  “No,” Q said. Snapping his fingers, in a flash he was standing beside her. “I came here to find out what you and my son think you’re doing.”

  At this, Kathryn smiled. “You can’t find him.”

  “I haven’t found him yet,” he corrected her.

  “And you think I know where he is?”

  “If anyone does,” Q acknowledged, with evident reluctance.

  “Sorry.” She shrugged, crossing her arms. “But I’m curious, how often do the Q ask a mere mortal for assistance with anything?”

  “More often than you might imagine, Kathy,” Q replied, softening somewhat.

  “Well, my dance card is pretty full right now, so if you aren’t here to help me, then just move along,” Kathryn insisted.

  “As soon as you tell me why my son saw fit to risk his very existence in order to bring you back from the dead. His mother has a sense of why,” he went on, “but her understanding is woefully inadequate.”

  Kathryn sighed. She honestly didn’t know if including Q when his son was determined to avoid his father’s interference would help or hinder. Still, she was willing to risk it if it brought them closer to the answers they required. “He didn’t tell me where he was going, but it had something to do with the Q formerly known as Amanda Rogers.”

  “What are you talking about? Amanda who?”

  “This is part of the problem,” Kathryn continued. “Something quite dramatic in the nature of your Continuum, of the entire multiverse, has changed. Q believes it happened as a result of the alteration of the timeline that brought Voyager back from the Delta Quadrant earlier than was originally the case. One of the changes has to do with a Q who was born of two of your people who had forsaken the Continuum, to live as humans. Amanda had become quite close to your son, but as of quite recently, apparently no longer exists.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Q said dismissively.

  “That a Q could cease to exist?”

  “That any Q would forsake the Continuum to become human.”

  “Okay,” Kathryn replied, shaking her head. “If that’s really your primary concern, I honestly can’t help you.”

  “I know who they were, the ingrates,” Q acknowledged. “But they never had a child.” He mused, “He’d be looking for concrete evidence of her existence.”

  “And how it ties in to the issue of his sense that very soon, he, too, might cease to exist.” Kathryn revealed, “He’s certain that whatever is causing this is tied to something my ship discovered in the Delta Quadrant—the first time we were here—and something we didn’t discover when our journey was cut short. An anomaly that could swallow a starship, let alone four, could be a likely candidate, which is why anything you can tell me about what’s happened—” She was interrupted by the sound of the door behind her hissing open.

  Kathryn turned automatically to see Chakotay step into the dimly lit room. He stared first at her, then at Q, then turned back to her in utter shock.

  Before she could say anything, Q’s voice came from behind her. “Impossible as it might be to imagine at such a moment, there’s a
ctually someplace more important I have to be right now.”

  Kathryn assumed that the faint flash of light reflected in Chakotay’s eyes heralded Q’s departure. For her part, she could not tear hers away from Chakotay’s face.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  VOYAGER

  Chakotay took in the scene before him: Kathryn and Q standing in front of Afsarah’s desk. His mind remained stubbornly frozen, absolutely unable to accept what he was seeing. Kathryn looked almost exactly as she had the last time he’d seen her, wearing her admiral’s uniform, her hair pulled into a slightly disheveled bun. The look on her face was filled with fear tinged with joyful hope, and her eyes greedily searched his for recognition and acceptance.

  The first emotion to surface as his brain sluggishly worked to make sense of this scene was white-hot anger. Q said something Chakotay didn’t really hear over the white noise filling his head, and then vanished. This thing that had assumed Kathryn’s form stepped tentatively forward. It might have said his name, but the rage pouring through him halted her.

  “Q!” Chakotay bellowed. “Show yourself again, you coward!”

  A faint utterance from this “thing” barely registered. “I know you’re still here! How dare you! How . . . ?” he roared, momentarily unable to find words for the depth of Q’s cruelty in bringing this “thing” before him. When his outrage failed to humiliate Q into returning, he tried another tack. “I used to think that even the Q had some standards of decency! But this . . . ? What sort of beast are you?”

  “Chakotay!” the “thing” commanded him. It held up both hands before him, palms out in a universally recognized gesture of surrender, and again began to creep slowly toward him.