Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide Read online

  It was not long before the absence of her uncles, Tallar and Jobin, became almost unendurable. Eden had no idea how much of what she now beheld had been searched for by them or known to them, but she did not doubt that this was the place they had been seeking during the years she had traveled with them. The thought that they had been denied the truth revealing itself to her with each step she took was almost too painful to bear.

  However, still missing was the catalyst for their search. Eden had always believed that her entrance into her uncles’ lives had been a happy accident, and she had not deterred them from their greater quest for knowledge. Only now did she suspect that their work had become more focused after she had joined them.

  The captain had long ago abandoned all hope of ever learning more about their quixotic journeys. She’d never given any credence to the idea of fate, or destiny, and the notion that some larger guiding hand played any part in the day-to-day realities of the living had always seemed preposterous.

  For the first time in her life, Eden began to doubt her casual acceptance of science and wonder how much of Tallar and Jobin’s life had been rooted in some sort of personal faith.

  Finally, her journey had ended as the tunnel opened into a cavern so vast, it nearly brought her to her knees. All around her, carved deep into the walls, countless images of the life and death of this place’s former inhabitants glowed with an unnatural light. The collective brilliance of it made her wrist beacon unnecessary.

  The first atrium—a space just under a hundred meters wide and twenty meters high—was dotted sporadically with carefully wrought obsidian staffs, some still intact, extending from the floor to the ceiling. They were symbolic rather than physical barriers. Anyone able to translate the words etched into them would have known, as she had the moment she had touched the so-called Staff of Ren, that they held a warning not to trespass further. Clearly, over the centuries, others had found their way into the caverns. Grave robbers, she thought harshly. All those who had preceded her here had come to plunder. The treasures they had stolen were priceless, but the greater loss was the opportunity to study the unique history revealed beyond the barrier.

  Beyond the atrium, the cavern widened considerably, opening at least an additional thirty meters overhead. Eden had no idea how much time she had spent absorbing the life stories of those who had made this place home, when her legs finally gave out beneath her and she crumpled to the floor. The tears she wept for herself—for the lost Anschlasom, and finally, for her uncles—flowed without cease. It wasn’t that she had never known pain in her life, but she had never before been a conduit for it. As she began to lose herself in its depths, she ached for its end, even as she understood that “the end” had been the beginning for the travelers who had finally come to rest here.

  The captain did not hear the approach of her fellow officers. When Hugh placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, gently speaking her name, Eden turned to face him, expecting to see in his place Osterna, the leader of the doomed Anschlasom, reaching out from beyond death to claim his daughter.

  Unable to resist, she had thrown herself into his arms, and eventually the sobs that racked her body began to subside.

  It might have been hours later when she woke to find that the counselor and the Doctor had created a small camp. She had been wrapped in a standard-issue emergency blanket. Hugh’s uniform jacket had been rolled beneath her head, to lift it from the stone floor.

  Every slight movement brought with it a dull and nauseating pain. As soon as she stirred, the Doctor had rushed to her side and placed a cup of warm, slightly bitter liquid to her mouth. Scanning her thoroughly, he advised her that she needed rest, but was otherwise in reasonable health.

  “Thank you,” she managed weakly.

  Cambridge took up position beside the Doctor and smiled down at her. “You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you?”

  • • •

  Once they had seen to the physical safety and comfort of Eden, Cambridge and the Doctor had taken a few hours to familiarize themselves with the immense cavern. Beyond the entrance atrium, a massive, probably communal space held enough archeological data to keep several generations busy. Using their tricorders, they meticulously mapped the adjacent tunnels and caverns that broke off from the main chamber. They spent considerable time puzzling over the most prominent and unusual artifact in the cavern: a smooth, black surface whose center seemed to be lit from behind by a small white light. It hung in a perfect circle beginning about ten meters from the floor and rising almost to the top of the rear wall. Both agreed that it was not a natural formation—it had clearly been placed there. It had not been carved from the surrounding stone, and their equipment could not identify its molecular structure. It was undeniably beautiful, and equally frightening, as if a large black lake had been frozen and suspended before them.

  So awe inspiring was the cavern that all of the petty disputes Cambridge and the Doctor had been engaged in were forgotten. They moved eagerly from one area to the next, calling out to each other as interesting discoveries were made, theorized about the significance of a particular figural representation, and ultimately stared at the black surface together in silence.

  Once Eden had awakened again and been thoroughly fortified with food and drink, they settled themselves in a small circle. Any thoughts of chiding her for her recklessness were banished by the enormity of her discovery.

  “I am grateful you came after me,” Eden said shyly.

  “You are our commanding officer—” the Doctor began.

  “And our friend,” Cambridge interjected for good measure.

  Nodding, the Doctor finished, “We could not have done otherwise.”

  “Nevertheless, thank you,” Eden replied.

  The captain quickly recounted the mathematical secrets of the various artifacts and their locations and how they led to the discovery of the tunnel.

  “Would I be right in assuming that you have found here at least some of the answers you were seeking?” Cambridge ventured.

  Eden stared deeply into his eyes, knowing that the truth would be plain upon her face, then said, “You would.”

  “Was this the home of your people?” the Doctor asked.

  Eden shook her head, smiling, and pointed behind her to a large mosaic that depicted several tall figures with four upper arm-like appendages and two legs. A round protrusion above an elongated oval torso might have indicated a head, but it was impossible to tell if the two fine stalks that rose from the top of the head were antennae, eyes, or merely decorative headdresses. “Those were the Anschlasom,” she said. “They first came here a little over ten thousand years ago. When they discovered other primitive life-forms on the surface, they built this place and retreated to it, to live out the short time left them in peace and without corrupting the natives. It seems that many space-faring races develop some version of the Prime Directive.”

  “But they left the map we found above?” Cambridge asked.

  Eden nodded.

  “If they were so adamant about hiding themselves from the others on this planet, why didn’t they leave?” the Doctor inquired. “And why leave the map at all?”

  Fresh tears rose to Eden’s eyes as she “remembered” the years of debate over that second question. To hold them back, she focused on the first and much easier question to answer. “Their ships were too badly damaged, and this planet lacked the natural resources necessary for them to rebuild.” After a moment spent regaining control of her emotions, Eden continued, “They were content to vanish from this part of the universe’s history, but they needed to tell their story to themselves. It created a sense of cultural continuity, as all that they had been slowly turned to dust around them.”

  “The galactic references in the tunnel . . . They were from quite far away, weren’t they?” Cambridge asked.

  “They were from a galaxy so distant we’ve never actually seen it. While I cannot confirm this in any factual way, my guess would be that they were
among the very first life-forms to attain sentience.” As Cambridge and the Doctor studied her, Eden continued, “They had explored and colonized much of their galaxy and had begun to venture farther out. Some headed toward the other galaxies they could perceive, searching for new life-forms. A smaller group set their course toward the void that, as best they could determine, was at the outermost edge of the universe. They wanted to know what, if anything, lay beyond it. They spent thousands of years studying it and testing it. Their technology was astounding—not even the Caeliar’s compares. Eventually, their efforts resulted in the revelation of something remarkable: an anomalous fragment within the void unlike anything they had ever seen. They did not create it; rather, they were convinced that it had always been present, though imperceptible to their sensors. But their actions were the first to bring it into contact with what we would call normal space-time.”

  “Did it happen to look anything like that?” Cambridge asked, pointing at the vast suspended black lake.

  “If you think it’s odd to find that here, imagine what it looked like hanging in the middle of space,” Eden replied.

  “That doesn’t sound possible,” the Doctor said. “I’m no expert on esoteric interstellar phenomena, but surely that is an artificial construct.”

  “It is anomalous space,” Eden said, “in a highly localized area. The normal laws of space and time do not apply to it. The Anschlasom studied it, tested it, did everything they could think of, tried to force it to reveal its mysteries, but had no success. Finally, they gave it a name: Som. The best translation would be ‘The End.’ ”

  Cambridge and the Doctor exchanged a confused look.

  “The end of what?” the Doctor asked.

  “Of everything,” Eden replied. “They were able to determine that it was expanding slowly, incredibly slowly. Within trillions of years, it would encompass their galaxy, and from there, eventually, the rest of the universe.”

  “But what was it?” Cambridge persisted.

  “I have no idea,” Eden shrugged, “because they had no idea.”

  “How did they get here?” the Doctor demanded.

  “The Anschlasom were already an ancient civilization when they encountered Som. When all else failed, a small group of them, on behalf of all their people, chose to attempt the unthinkable. Rather than simply allow it to run its course, they decided to battle it. They used power sources so massive we don’t even have theoretical constructs for them yet and accomplished nothing. Finally, they decided to try and enter it.” Eden gestured to the vast series of carvings that illuminated the ceiling of the cavern. “It’s difficult to really say what they found inside it. Every individual who experienced it saw and felt something quite different. But all of them left their impressions here. It was like some sort of communal dream. Some of what they saw was beautiful and inspiring. What others saw threw them into the depths of despair and madness. None of them knew how long they journeyed through it. Eventually, they passed again into normal space, crashing here on this planet, billions of years from their own past.”

  Both the Doctor and Cambridge stared transfixed at the ceiling for some time. Eden took a moment to refresh her tea, fearing that if she looked up, the indelible impressions of the images above would again overwhelm her.

  “And . . . that’s it?” the Doctor finally asked.

  “You need more?” Eden asked, dumbfounded.

  “I think what we’re both wondering is how this amazing and thoroughly intriguing archeological wonder is connected to you,” Cambridge clarified. “I could spend my next ten lifetimes down here studying all of this. As it stands, I don’t expect to sleep at all until Achilles returns.”

  “Returns?” Eden asked, suddenly concerned.

  “It was called in to support Voyager,” Cambridge replied.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” the counselor admitted.

  Eden turned to the Doctor. After an uncomfortable moment he added, “There was a lot going on. I honestly didn’t think to ask.”

  Eden looked between them, aghast.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Afsarah,” Cambridge said, “you had left the ship without advising anyone. We didn’t have time for an in-depth briefing. We found your life signs, grabbed our things, and hopped on the transporter pad.”

  Eden sighed deeply. “Sorry.”

  After a moment, the captain said, “To answer your question, I honestly don’t know what, if anything, this has to do with me or why I feel connected to it. But I believe my uncles knew,” she added. “The more I think about the places we went together, I’m struck by the similarities in context if not in content to this find.”

  “Was all of this for nothing?” the Doctor demanded.

  “I’m not one of them, or their descendant,” Eden stated.

  “But . . . ?” Cambridge asked, sensing her confusion.

  “But somehow they are part of me,” she admitted.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ACHILLES

  Commander Tillum Drafar met Seven of Nine and Chakotay in Achilles’ main transporter room. Having successfully escaped the Tarkons, the ships were carrying out repairs. They were a thousand light-years from their previous position, and far from any known interstellar phenomena that might trouble them. Within a few hours, both ships would be ready to set course for the rendezvous point with the rest of the fleet, arriving several days ahead of schedule.

  Seven knew that Chakotay was as curious as she was about Riley and her people. Drafar had advised them that they were grateful, extremely cooperative, and that Doctor Frazier was quite anxious to meet with Chakotay.

  “What have you learned, Captain?” Chakotay asked the moment they stepped down from the pad.

  “Doctor Frazier and her people are not what I expected, considering your last encounter with them,” Drafar replied as he ushered them into the hall and led them toward the turbolift. A cargo bay had been made over to tend to the medical and physical well-being of their guests.

  “In what way?” Seven asked.

  “I was prepared for, and advised my security staff to expect, a small Borg collective.”

  At this, Seven rolled her eyes. Drafar was too tall to notice.

  “They no longer function as a collective?” Chakotay asked.

  “No,” Drafar confirmed. “Although their concern for and protectiveness of one another is what you might expect from any group forced to survive while in hiding from the Tarkons.”

  Before they reached the doors to the cargo bay, Drafar explained, “Ten security officers are maintaining a presence in the room, though they are doing their best to remain inconspicuous. We have provided our guests with food, clothing, and facilities to refresh themselves. Many have already fallen asleep. But Doctor Frazier is waiting to speak with you.”

  “Thank you,” Chakotay replied.

  “Please contact me if there is anything you need, and, Captain, the Achilles needs to return to the Mikhal Outpost as soon as possible. Whatever arrangements you intend to make for the ultimate disposition of these people need to be done quickly. This can only be a temporary solution.”

  “Of course,” Chakotay agreed.

  Drafar nodded and strode away. Seven met Chakotay’s eyes. He had but to reach his hand to the door’s security panel to gain entrance, but something stopped him.

  “You just went to great lengths to save these people,” Seven reminded him.

  “I know,” he said, dropping his head with a sigh.

  “Whatever they once were,” she added, “they are individuals once again.”

  “And all alone out here,” Chakotay said.

  “Do you still bear a grudge against them?” Seven asked.

  Chakotay shook his head. “No. But I can’t say I really trust them, either.”

  “A wise precaution,” Seven agreed.

  The cargo bay’s lights were dimmed, and it took a few moments for Seven’s eyes to adjust as they entered. Five long rows of cots had been
set up, with ample space between them to accommodate the small cases of personal items that had been provided for each of the refugees.

  Seven could vaguely make out several figures roving through the darkness. Before she and Chakotay could go any farther, a slight woman with short, grayish yellow hair and piercing blue eyes approached them with a wide and welcoming smile.

  “Commander Chakotay,” she said warmly, “and Seven of Nine. It’s nice to meet you in person at last.”

  “Doctor Frazier,” Seven replied coolly.

  Riley Frazier seemed eager to close the distance between herself and Chakotay with some physical gesture of greeting, but his professional demeanor clearly kept her at bay.

  “Actually, it’s ‘captain,’ now,” he advised her.

  Confused consternation passed across her face as Riley considered the possible explanations for his new rank. Finally she asked, “Captain Janeway?”

  Chakotay’s jaw tensed as he replied, “She was killed in the line of duty a little over a year ago.”

  Riley’s sympathy seemed genuine as she responded, “I’m so sorry to hear that. I know how important she was to you. You still haven’t gotten home?”

  Chakotay was clearly uncomfortable with the personal nature of their exchange.

  “Voyager reached the Alpha Quadrant,” Seven advised Riley, “over three years ago. We have returned as part of a fleet exploring the Delta Quadrant and attempting to learn the fate of any former Borg.”

  Riley’s eyes met Seven’s with the same warmth she had exuded toward Chakotay. Seven found it mildly disconcerting, but part of her understood the connection that now bound them. “There is a great deal you need to know,” Riley said, accepting that her emotional response to this meeting was not shared by the Starfleet officers. “Would you like to take a seat?” She gestured to a small area where a few chairs had been arranged. “I know it’s not much, but compared to the way we’ve lived for the past several months, it’s like the lap of luxury.”