Star Trek Voyager: Unworthy Page 19

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Batiste repeated when she questioned it the first time.

  “They’ve made contact, and they’ve asked us to leave,” Eden said. “Have I missed anything important?”

  “They’re capturing and killing innocent humanoids and offering them for assimilation to a race that no longer exists.”

  Eden took a moment to collect her thoughts, crossing to the bay of windows that offered a more serene picture of the Indign system than Willem had just painted.

  “We could set up buoys just outside the system, warning passing ships,” she suggested.

  “Or we could remain in the system until the Indign are willing to speak with us again, at which point we tell them the truth,” Willem countered.

  “The truth?”

  “That the Borg no longer exist. Their master race was conquered by an even greater species and no longer occupies this area of space. Their offerings are no longer necessary.”

  “You and I both know that in a situation as delicate as this, sharing that information could prove disastrous.”

  “So we simply lie to them by omission? And allow them to go on victimizing other sentient creatures in a cause that has gone from irrationally motivated to absurd? That’s the Starfleet way?” he demanded.

  “We have to respect their cultural norms, Admiral. They worship the Borg, the same way humans worshipped gods in any number of forms for thousands of years. It doesn’t matter that those gods are intemperate and ultimately unknowable. That’s part of the allure for those who are so inclined. It’s evidence only of their shortcomings, not those of their gods. It’s the basis for faith.”

  “Their faith is based on gross misunderstanding and lies.”

  “That’s not for you to judge, and you know it,” Eden countered.

  Batiste crossed to face her, fierce and unyielding determination shining from his eyes. It had been such a long time since Eden had seen such intensity radiating from him, she took an involuntary step back. What she remembered of his passions was their deep and tempestuous nature. Once upon a time, she had met him there, and truly enjoyed wading into those dicey waters. Now, they frightened her.

  “What’s the point of gathering all our knowledge if others can’t benefit from it as well?” he asked.

  “We benefit from it. But knowledge can’t be forced upon others. They have to want it. They have to find it for themselves. And I believe that in time, the Indign will. It’s only been a few years. Who’s to say that after fifty or a hundred more, when the Borg haven’t been seen or heard from by several generations of cooperatives, they won’t reevaluate their beliefs and pin their hopes on their own goals, rather than those they once perceived as the accomplishments of another race?”

  “If they are anything like humans, it will take a lot longer than that,” Willem noted.

  “Granted,” Eden said with a nod. “But isn’t this the point of the Prime Directive? We don’t interfere with the natural development of other races because we’re not in the god business. You’re seeing only the horror of the Borg’s influence here. I recognize that, too, but I can also see the positive side. Look at what their example inspired in the Indign, misunderstood though it might have been. More important, there really isn’t a decision to be made here. We’ve followed protocol. We’ve established first contact. And they’ve asked us to leave. That’s pretty much the end of the story the way I read our regulations.”

  “Damn the regulations,” Batiste scoffed.

  “I beg your pardon, Admiral?”

  “You heard me. These people will, in time, through contact with vessels like ours, enhance their technological capabilities and they will do so in the name of finishing the work the Borg began. We have an opportunity right here and right now to nip that in the bud.”

  “And how do you think they’ll respond?” Eden asked. “You really want to tell these people we killed their gods?”

  “We didn’t,” Batiste argued. “Not really.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they’ll grasp the distinction. We were there, Willem. Our people witnessed the transformation firsthand and we’re still trying to figure out exactly what happened. Do you think the Indign are just going to take our word for it? They don’t know us. They have no reason to trust us. And all we’d be doing is handing them a reason to make war on us. What’s that going to solve, other than making you feel better about this?”

  Batiste’s breath was quick. Beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead and she guessed that if she had a tricorder right now, it would have shown his heart racing in his chest.

  “For the time being, Voyager, Hawking, and Galen will remain in orbit,” he ordered.

  “I think that’s a mistake, Admiral,” she replied.

  “That much I gathered. For what it’s worth, I think you were mistaken to allow Chakotay, Seven of Nine, and B’Elanna Torres to join your crew.”

  “It’s my ship, Admiral. My crew.”

  “That’s right. And you get to make mistakes. My ordering you otherwise isn’t going to change your nature, nor will it help you learn from these mistakes.”

  Eden felt her own heart beginning to run its own quick race. “I appreciate your concern, Admiral, but I don’t need it. I understand my nature better than you ever could. I recognize my weaknesses and play to my strengths, just as you do. Please don’t assume that simply because you have formed an opinion, it’s the only viable one to be had. B’Elanna Torres has freely offered her expertise to Lieutenant Conlon. Seven has acquitted herself admirably and hasn’t failed once to honor the terms she agreed to when she boarded.”

  “What about Chakotay? You honestly believe he’s only here to help a friend?”

  “At this point, yes,” Eden replied, conscious of the hesitation in her voice. “But I’m not an idiot. If he has other intentions, they will become clear soon enough.”

  “You already suspect him of planting those deflector protocols you reported.”

  “He and I have discussed it and for the time being, I am satisfied with his answers. If that changes, I won’t hesitate to throw him or any other responsible party into the brig, pending transport back to the Alpha quadrant.”

  “Afsarah,” Willem said, shaking his head morosely. “You’ve always been too quick to see the potential in everyone, and you possess a huge soft spot for strays.”

  “You didn’t used to mind.”

  “No, because when we were together, I knew I could protect you from those who would take advantage of your naïveté.”

  “You abandoned your post as my protector a long time ago,” she replied heatedly. “Not that I ever wanted that from you anyway. And I certainly didn’t mean to burden you with my propensity for rash Pollyanna-esque lapses.”

  “That’s not what I—” he began.

  “You want to know what I think?” she hammered on without waiting for a response. “I think the only thing you hate more than being wrong is when I’m right. You constantly look for the monsters in the darkness. You’re terrified of them. Frankly, I don’t know how you rose through the ranks of an organization like Starfleet so quickly given your pessimism.”

  “A lot of people are still alive today because of that pessimism,” he countered.

  “There’s living and breathing, and there’s alive . One of these days, you’re going to learn the difference.”

  After a short, silent pause, the admiral’s breath calmed. “I will note your objections in my logs,” he said evenly. “In the meantime, I expect you to carry out my orders. It’s your ship, but I’m the senior officer.”

  “Of course, Admiral,” Eden managed with a deferential nod before he turned crisply and left the room.

  The moment he was gone, she began to circle the large conference table.

  What the hell just happened?

  She and Batiste had had their fair share of differences throughout the years, and sometimes they devolved from professional to personal.

  But this was diff
erent.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that he had launched his personal attack on her command choices to deflect her attention.

  There was nothing to argue when it came to the Indign. Like it or not, the Prime Directive made this situation non-negotiable.

  So why is he doing this?

  Eden replayed the conversation in her head a few times before she realized that she was asking herself the wrong question, as was usually the case with any question that began with the word “why.” The right question stopped her in her tracks.

  What the hell is he really up to?

  Despite Chakotay’s suggestion, Seven decided that what she really needed was some rest. She was still uncomfortable sleeping, primarily because until a few months ago, she had never associated rest with anything other than standing upright in a Borg regeneration chamber.

  The Doctor had suggested playing soft music in her quarters. He had even provided her with a few works that she found dull and uninspired, but that did have a soothing effect when she focused her attention on them.

  She lay with the lights off, as a variety of stringed instruments did little to quiet her thoughts. As the violins whined, she found herself wondering how much practice would really do to help her begin to master her catoms—if in fact they were the true source of the voice in her mind.

  Alone in the darkness Seven began to fear another potential cause. It was possible she was suffering from some sort of mental deterioration. She had witnessed years of her aunt’s illness, and though she knew that she did not have Irumodic syndrome, there were dozens of other neurological conditions which could produce her symptoms.

  Once this thought took hold, she felt compelled to test it. Seven lifted herself on her elbows and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She took a few deep breaths, and did what she could to clear her mind.

  Suddenly “Meegan’s” face as she described the respect the Indign felt for the Borg floated into her mind. She tried to release the anger that accompanied this image and found it replaced by the face of the young, half-Caeliar Annika Hansen she, Chakotay, and Icheb had confronted in her mental Erigol. Like “Meegan,” the face of Annika disturbed her deeply. A childish laugh echoed throughout the caverns of her mind, which tempted her to call for the computer to illuminate her cabin—a temptation she forced herself to conquer.

  Searching for a more peaceful thought, she settled on her aunt Irene’s face, seated before her at her kitchen table, her chin resting in her hand and her eyes twinkling as she listened to Seven tell story after story about her friends and her students.

  Though there was sadness to accompany this image, there was also something in it that both strengthened and calmed her. She allowed it to linger briefly, mentally watching it fade slowly into the distance until it was undistinguishable from a field of stars she imagined floating before her. Each star became an association with someone she knew cared for her: Kathryn, Chakotay, the Doctor, Icheb, Naomi, Neelix, and Tuvok. The list went on as Seven imagined herself bathed in the comfort and care of so many, near and far, who wished her peace.

  Buoyed by a newfound sense of strength, Seven slowly raised her hand and shut off the neural inhibitor. The voice returned and as soon as she heard it, she tried to place it among the stars gleaming in her mind. Rather than fight it, she accepted that it was there and tried to imagine that it desired good for her. To her surprise, its volume diminished until it was a faint buzz, part of a sum of galactic white noise, nothing more than one element of a wider tapestry of concerned voices.

  Seven felt weariness descending upon her. She realized that intense mental effort was required on her part to sustain this faint control, but now that she had found a path, she knew she could locate it again. Chakotay had been right. All it would take was more practice.

  She raised her hand to once again engage the inhibitor and felt a sharp pain streak through her head as a blinding white light flashed before her eyes. Instead of touching the inhibitor, Seven grabbed the sides of her head with both hands, attempting to hold back the searing heat in her mind.

  Her stomach began to turn as images cascaded frenetically into her mind: humanoids blown to bits by crude energy weapons, screeching bugs scrambling over rocks as explosions erupted all around them, pools of silver fluid cascading over small scampering creatures, desperate to evade them, and through it all a sense that she was drowning, suffocating in a gaseous haze.

  As Seven was bombarded by these sights, she fell to the floor and curled into a whimpering, shuddering ball. Shaking, frantic hands searched the back of her neck until her fingers found the inhibitor and after frustrating, painful seconds, she finally reengaged it.

  Lying in the darkness, her heart racing and her breath coming in gasps as her mind grew mercifully blank, Seven tried her best to find the starfield again, but failed to, as faint red and blue flashes streaked across the darkness.

  A few hours later, she awakened in the same position, curled uncomfortably on the floor of her cabin beside her bed. A distant shriek echoed in her mind.

  Her first thought was to wonder what she had witnessed before losing consciousness. In the absence of their visceral assault, the images were easier to analyze and quickly identify as belonging to the various Indign species. But they had not come from her research or observations. They had not come from anything the Indign had shared with the crew about themselves or their history.

  Seven broke out into a cold sweat as she wondered if she might not somehow have witnessed the future of the Indign, should Voyager simply leave the system as they had requested. As she weighed the possibility, the consistent shrieking grew louder. Still groggy, she pulled herself up and was almost overwhelmed by the need to retch.

  Finally part of her mind understood the loud, repetitive sound. Now that she was fully awake, she realized that it must have been this sound that had pulled her back to consciousness.

  Klaxons were wailing throughout Voyager.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Eden entered the bridge less than a minute after the alarm had sounded, calling “Report!” She was surprised to note that the viewscreen was blank. The bridge was awash in pulsing crimson light and it seemed that the periods of darkness between pulses was growing longer with each iteration.

  “Restore normal lighting,” she called.

  Commander Paris was already on the bridge, standing over Ensign B’Kar at ops.

  “We are experiencing multiple simultaneous systems failures, Captain,” Paris advised her evenly.

  “Are we under attack?”

  “No, Captain. We are trying to get the sensors back up. Our last reading showed no hostile vessels approaching. As best we can tell, this is an internal problem.”

  Best to be grateful for the little things, she reminded herself, though she immediately wondered how long it might take the Indign to realize that their ship was not operating at full capacity and whether or not that would encourage them to make the most of an opportunity to rid themselves of their unwelcome Federation guests.

  “What’s the status of Hawking and Galen ?”

  “Our comm system is down,” Tom reported.

  “Their last report indicated that all systems were functioning normally, Captain,” Kim added from tactical.

  “How many systems are we talking about?” Eden asked, as she moved to stand beside Tom, probably adding to B’Kar’s angst.

  “Communications, sensors, weapons, navigation, and the list keeps growing,” Paris replied.

  “Engineering, report,” Eden called out.

  After a moment of silence, B’Kar said, “I’ll add internal communications to the list, Captain.”

  Eden stepped quickly toward the turbolift, but pulled herself up just short of running into the doors when they failed to open automatically.

  “Turbolifts.” She turned back to the command well.

  “Aye,” B’Kar assured her.

  Eden had to assume that Conlon was doing all she could from her en
d to remedy the situation. They’d spent so much time and energy focusing on the slipstream drives and coordinating fleet movement that something smaller but equally disabling could have been missed. Unfortunately, now wasn’t exactly the optimal time for it to make its presence known.

  It was also possible that this might not be an accident.

  “Computer,” B’Elanna called, “mute alarm.” She couldn’t believe Miral was sleeping through the ruckus, and was certain that if it didn’t end soon, she would awaken just as cranky and edgy as her mother was at the moment.

  Her concern began to grow when the computer did not reply to her command.

  Tom had been giving her a quick kiss before she had even realized something was wrong. The familiar Klaxons had quickly brought her to full consciousness. The nauseating fear that had been her constant companion for the last three years reawakened. She reminded herself that whatever was happening, the crew would certainly have it under control in no time. It was impossible to even consider that Voyager might already have come under attack because of her or Miral.

  Finally the alarm system wound down, though it was clear from the slow drop in pitch that it hadn’t been shut off. The system was malfunctioning. As the dim cabin lights began to flicker, B’Elanna began to calculate how many systems had to be damaged to affect emergency alerts: the main computer, environmental controls …

  Her gut tightened as the list grew.

  B’Elanna began to pace the cabin, her anxiety mounting with each step.

  It’s not your problem .

  She believed it less every time she thought it.

  Hurrying to Miral’s bedside, she was gratified to see that Kula was standing his permanent vigil. Holographic systems had always run independently on Voyager . Had Kula been offline, B’Elanna couldn’t even have entertained the notion she had settled upon.

  It’s not your problem, Chakotay reminded himself.

  Now he just needed to make himself believe it.

  He had jumped from his bed and almost reached the door to his cabin before he realized that the alarm was not meant to summon him. His natural response to the sound of a shipwide alert was so deeply ingrained that pulling himself up short was painful. He told himself over and over again that those in command would certainly resolve the crisis quickly. He reminded himself that he was where he was at this moment because of a conscious choice on his part. He tried to calm his breathing and simply block the sound from his mind. He visualized himself standing at Kathryn’s memorial, and tried to recapture the certainty he had felt when he had finally made peace with his choice to abandon Starfleet.