Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide

by Kirsten Beyer

  “Well, that’s good to know,” she sighed.

  “But we are where we are. This is the right choice. You didn’t come back to throw your life away again as a tactical maneuver. You came back because a member of an omnipotent species decided your presence was absolutely necessary here.”

  Kathryn did not want to meet his eyes. She was certain that if she did, her resolve would falter, and she might begin to accept his decision.

  “We also have to consider the fate of the fleet. I know I would have seen them safely home, and Captain Eden may still. But if I’m leaving the job to anyone without regret or reservation, it’s you.”

  “I love you,” she said softly for the first time. It shocked her to realize she had never spoken the words until now.

  “I know.” He smiled. “And I love you.”

  “But not enough to stay?”

  “Not enough to fail to do my duty.” Choosing his words carefully, Chakotay said, “I know that you would do the same in my place.”

  “I already did, didn’t I?”

  Chakotay took her fully into his arms.

  As fresh tears welled in her eyes and rolled onto his shoulder, Kathryn whispered, “Just tell me you’re not doing this because you can’t bear to let me do it.”

  Chakotay pulled back and stared into her eyes for a long time. As he brushed away a tear, he confessed, “Losing you was the worst thing that ever happened to me. I don’t want to do it again. As hard as it might be to imagine, I know you will survive, just as I did.”

  “I’m actually not worried about you,” she admitted. “I’ve been where you’re going, and my sense was, there is something quite powerful out there waiting for all of us.”

  “I’ve never doubted it,” he replied with a warm grin.

  “Me, on the other hand . . .” she began.

  He lifted a hand and placed his fingers gently on her lips to still the thought.

  “One breath, one moment, one day at a time.”

  Kathryn nodded, interlacing her fingers with his.

  After a few more stolen moments, Chakotay kissed Kathryn for the last time and rose, saying, “I need to speak to Tom for a few minutes before I go.”

  She desperately wanted to hold him back, but she knew it would be pointless. Kathryn thought back briefly to her fears of only a day earlier, when she wondered who she would be meeting on her return to Voyager. She knew now that her absence and the need to confront her loss had transformed Chakotay, but not into the worst possible version of himself. The fire had tempered him, burning away the impurities and leaving only what was best.

  How she would learn to live without him now, she had no idea.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  VOYAGER

  Lieutenant Commander Thomas Paris sat in Voyager’s center seat, watching as Captain Chakotay’s shuttle streaked toward the anomaly. When Chakotay had informed him of his decision, Tom had wanted to hit something very hard—possibly Chakotay’s head to knock some sense into him. As the captain had recounted his reasons, Tom had reluctantly agreed that, given the long odds, there was no one other than himself or Chakotay who should be flying into the Omega Continuum.

  Tom had then, of course, offered to take Chakotay’s place, and been flatly refused. Whatever fleeting sense of relief he experienced had quickly been overwhelmed by a more powerful sense of impending loss.

  Tom had wanted to say so many things. Holding out his hand, he had barely gotten out, “It has been my honor to serve with you, Captain.”

  Chakotay took his hand before replying, “If you’ll permit me the presumption, I’ve never been more proud of a journey I’ve witnessed than yours. If anyone had told me the day Voyager first set her course back to the Alpha Quadrant that this is where Tom Paris would be now, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  For a moment, Tom heard his late father, Admiral Owen Paris, speaking through Chakotay. The praise should have lightened his spirit; instead, it added to the burdens he now carried.

  As Chakotay’s shuttle sped toward the darkness, Tom felt his heart burning in his chest, and he realized what he wanted to say to his captain and his friend, while he still had the chance.

  Thank you, Chakotay, for my life and the lives of my wife and daughter.

  • • •

  Kathryn Janeway had chosen to follow the proceedings from astrometrics. Moment by moment, readings from the shuttle would appear on the large viewscreen simultaneously as they were fed to the bridge. Seven and B’Elanna patiently worked the controls before them. Conlon was stationed in engineering, manning the deflector array. Patel was on the bridge to interpret every step for the command staff.

  Chakotay’s shuttle sped toward the anomaly. Kathryn’s heart pounded out each second that passed as she reminded herself to breathe. Until Chakotay was truly gone, it seemed possible to believe that something, anything might happen to prevent his actions. Kathryn wondered if her godson might make a last-minute appearance, but felt oddly certain that he wouldn’t. She had stopped by Q’s quarters, and from the reception she received was certain he expected to join her in observing the mission’s progress.

  She had refused, but wanted to ask him one question.

  “The price you spoke of earlier, the one you were certain I’d be unwilling to pay. This was it, wasn’t it?” Kathryn had asked.

  Q had shrugged. “It’s hard to say, until we see how all of this ends.”

  “You mean you don’t know?” she had demanded.

  “No, but now that you mention it, I really wish I’d peeked.”

  The moment Chakotay’s shuttle disappeared into the anomaly, Kathryn answered the question for herself as she remembered that it had been her actions, years earlier, that had brought all of them to this moment. Chakotay, Eden, the Q, the Anschlasom, she would someday make time to forgive.

  Herself? She doubted it.

  • • •

  “Personal log. To help maintain my focus, I will continue this log as long as I am able. My course is set, and I will enter the Omega Continuum in forty-three seconds. The shuttle’s computer has been programmed to bring the ship about exactly twenty seconds after entry and target the barrier separating Omega from normal space. The phase-shifted soliton pulse will be emitted simultaneously with Voyager’s. My task is to make certain that nothing interferes with this process. If the shuttle’s operating system is damaged in any way during passage into Omega, I will manually target and emit the pulse.

  “Ten seconds to the barrier. Probably not the best time to wonder if this was really the right choice.

  “It was.

  “No doubts.

  “No fears.

  “Course is steady. All systems optimal.

  “Three seconds.

  “Two.

  “I . . .”

  OMEGA CONTINUUM

  “. . . inside . . . absolute dark . . . no . . . light . . . everywhere . . . bright . . . no blinding fragments of . . . must be Omega . . . focus . . . confirm shuttle is coming about. Targeting barrier. Chronometer is counting down . . . ninety seconds . . . maybe I didn’t have to be here . . . no . . . the garden . . . I see the garden . . . there is no garden . . . what’s left of it . . . a horrible storm . . . high winds, trees blown over . . . chaos . . .

  “Chronometer still counting down . . . seventy-one seconds . . . target is in range . . . acquiring . . . unable to maintain position . . . the chaos . . . the lights, everywhere, they are pummeling the shuttle, drawn to it . . . no . . . firing on it . . . routing all available power to shields . . . no effect . . . manually overriding . . .”

  “Afsarah?”

  “. . . there is no . . . there is a figure in the garden, his arms wrapped around the base of a fallen tree . . .”

  “Please . . .”

  “. . . Tallar . . . I can’t help him. Focus. Reacquiring target. Firing maneuvering thrusters to compensate . . . direct hit, starboard thrusters . . . compensating . . . twenty-three seconds . . .”

 
; “Afsarah, help me . . .”

  “. . . Target locked. Fifteen seconds . . . another hit . . . compensatingjustholdpositionjustholdpositionholding . . .”

  “Afsarah!”

  “Tallar!”

  “Who?”

  “Tallar, take my hand. Come with me. Come to my ship. You’ll be safe there.”

  “There is no safety. Not without her.”

  “Afsarah knows I’m here. She sent me. Take my hand.”

  “She . . . ?”

  “Take my hand.”

  “So . . . where are we?”

  “On my shuttle. You’re safe now.

  “. . . target stable . . . eight seconds to pulse . . . holding position . . .”

  “Who are you?”

  “Tallar, your daughter is my commanding officer. Together we have discovered a way to seal Omega. Five seconds . . .”

  “No! You can’t! Not without . . .”

  “Four, three . . .”

  “Omega won’t allow you!”

  . . . please, gods of my fathers, no . . .

  VOYAGER

  “The deflector array is on line. Preparing to emit soliton pulse,” reported Voyager’s chief engineer.

  “At your discretion, Lieutenant Conlon,” Tom replied. Chakotay had entered the anomaly, and everything was proceeding exactly as planned.

  “The anomaly remains stable,” Patel reported from the science station.

  “Ensign Gwyn?” Tom asked.

  “Warp drive is on line and ready to engage. Escape course plotted, Commander.”

  “Prepare to take us to warp nine on my mark.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “Ten seconds to pulse,” Patel called out.

  A solid white beam from the main deflector reached the anomaly. For several seconds, nothing happened.

  “Patel?” Tom asked.

  “Scanning quantum signature. Awaiting confirmation of return pulse.”

  “Come on, Chakotay,” Tom whispered.

  “Commander, the anomaly is shifting visibly,” Lasren reported from ops.

  “How so, Mister Lasren?”

  “Detecting fractures opening . . .”

  “Conn,” Paris ordered, hoping it wouldn’t be the last order he gave. The pinpoints of light that had been stable stars a split-second earlier streaked into long white lines as Voyager’s warp drive was engaged. Every second that passed was taking Voyager to safety.

  “Multiple fractures detected, continuing to expand,” Lasren reported.

  “We’re well ahead of them,” Kim advised.

  Tom leaned forward. “Gywn, status?”

  “Maintaining optimal distance. There’s a slight drag due to the ruptures in subspace but the drive is stable at warp eight-point-nine.”

  “Lasren, how long do we have to maintain this speed to clear the fractures?”

  “Unable to determine at this time, Commander,” the ops officer replied. “The fractures are continuing to expand well beyond the initial area of impact.”

  A torturous minute passed in silence as Tom willed Voyager to go just a little faster to ensure his crew’s safety. He asked, “Patel, what happened?”

  The science officer cleared her throat and replied, “It appears Captain Chakotay was unable to fire the pulse from within the Omega Continuum. We did not seal the Continuum. Instead, we have once again created multiple fractures within space and subspace.”

  “Do we have a visual?”

  “On-screen now, sir,” Lasren replied.

  Tom’s breath stilled in his chest as the screen before him displayed hundreds of long black streaks, lit from within by brilliant fragments of white light from what had been a small amorphous black shape. Now it was a thousand times larger. It burned with the brightness of a star about to go supernova.

  Damn, he thought with a shudder. Tom knew that Janeway or Chakotay would have found something to say, but his mind was blank. Getting up, the new captain of Voyager crossed over to the conn. He laid a firm hand on Gwyn’s shoulder.

  “Steady as she goes, Ensign.”

  • • •

  As Omega split itself open, Afsarah Eden felt herself expanding. Every atom contained within her skin struggled to burst forth. The frail organ tasked with holding them together tightened, then tingled as if it would rupture. She stumbled, reaching toward the main data panel for support.

  “Captain Eden!” Janeway’s voice called, dissipating the sensation and bringing her back to the present. Eden found herself doubled over, her breath forcing itself through her lungs in great heaves.

  Strong arms wrapped around her, and Eden looked up to see Janeway on one side and Seven on the other.

  “What’s our status?” Janeway was demanding.

  Seven responded, “The pulse we emitted did not meet its counterpart upon impact with the barrier.”

  “Chakotay failed?” Janeway gasped.

  “I’m afraid so, Admiral.”

  Janeway’s hands tightened their grip around Eden’s arms.

  “Omega has fractured, but it appears we were able to establish a warp field in time to escape,” Seven added.

  A little dizzy but otherwise better, Eden used the arms holding her to stand upright. After what felt like an eternity, her vision cleared and the stricken faces of all those present greeted her.

  Although normal seemed like a half-remembered dream, Eden’s duty remained clear. Tapping her combadge, she said, “Commander Paris?”

  “Yes, Fleet Commander?”

  “Status?”

  “We’re at warp eight-point-seven, evading the edge of the new fractures from Omega.”

  “Maintain course and speed until further advised. Eden out.”

  Turning to Seven, Eden said, “Is it possible to make another attempt to seal Omega?”

  Seven looked to B’Elanna, who shook her head slowly. “Given the volatility of the fractures and the distance we must now maintain from them, no, I’m afraid we cannot.”

  Captain Eden then turned to Janeway, who clearly struggled to remain calm and focused.

  “Other options?” Janeway demanded.

  “No, Admiral,” B’Elanna replied.

  “I want . . .” Janeway began, but seemed to lose her breath as she placed a hand over her stomach. “I want . . . damn it . . .” Stilling her ragged inhalations, she whispered, “One breath, one moment at a time.”

  The pain Eden had brought to Janeway’s existence should have paled in comparison to the devastation of the last few days for which she felt personally responsible. Instead, all that had been lost in her quest to find her truth was now reflected back to her in the face of the woman who had risked everything she was, time and again, to keep those she led safe and the universe around them in one piece.

  “I’m so sorry, Admiral,” Eden found voice to say.

  Janeway nodded and squared her shoulders, saying, “We still have a job to do.”

  “There is but one course before us now, Admiral. Even you must see that now.”

  “You’re ready to sentence an entire species to death without even trying . . .” Janeway replied, her voice rising. “No,” she said, stepping up onto the small platform that was situated just before the room’s gigantic viewscreen. She began pacing. “There must be another way. We can keep ahead of the fractures as long as necessary. Given enough time, we will find a solution.”

  Eden hated to contradict her, but she had no choice. “There is no other solution. We had days. Now we have hours. Omega is continuing to expand. I feel it in every breath I take. The fractures now forming are not simply the result of the pulse we fired. Omega is coming for me, and will continue to shatter space and subspace, until I return to it. I can choose to do so without destroying the Q Continuum, but that won’t be sufficient . . .”

  Janeway interrupted forcefully. “You say this balance must be restored, but in doing so you are condemning this universe, the entire multiverse, to a history in which the Q have never existed. I know y
ou don’t know them like I do, but I’m here to tell you, even on their worst day, they have done more good than evil.”

  “Are you certain you’re not just speaking from personal experience?” Eden asked evenly.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “They saved your life.”

  “If my life were all that was at stake here, I’d go back without a second thought. This isn’t about me. It’s about you . . . your humanity,” the admiral insisted. Suddenly everything dropped away and Eden could only hear Janeway. “I was assimilated by the Borg. One moment, I was myself. The next, I was drowning in a sea of minds, all begging for the order only I could bring them. Wave after wave crashed against me, drawing me under. I knew that to listen to them was to cease to be human, to abandon myself and all hope. I could not resist. But even as I was being violated by their technology, as my genetic code was rewritten, I held on to whatever I could. It wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough to prevent the horrors they inflicted on those I’d sworn to protect. But what little they left me, I held on to with every fiber of my being, until the moment came when I was given the chance to destroy them.”

  Suddenly, the admiral was in front of her, staring directly into Eden’s eyes. “You must do the same. Omega is rising, but it is not all that there is of you. Let it come, but never forget that you are human. The forces of ultimate destruction erred when they chose a human template for you. We don’t accept the unacceptable. We don’t give up, even when it seems all hope is lost. We fight with our last ounce of strength to resist the tide, never knowing when we will finally overcome, but believing to the end that it is possible.”

  “The Q are not human,” Eden whispered to her.

  “No,” Janeway agreed. “They are more than human. They are more advanced than any life-form of which I am aware. They are not perfect. Far from it. They may toy with humanity, but each time we encounter them, both parties learn something. When you accepted your commission in Starfleet, you swore to uphold its values. It doesn’t matter that the Q should never have existed. They do exist. You are duty bound to protect them, like any other life-form, even at the cost of your own life.”