Atonement Page 32

  In less than four minutes, a journey that should have taken them more than a day was over, and Voyager slowed as it approached the massive energy field that supposedly surrounded Seriar.

  Without turning, Lsia said, “You have a fine ship, Captain. She has performed exceptionally well.”

  “I expect you to return her to us in the same shape you found her,” Chakotay noted.

  “Why would I do otherwise?” Lsia asked. “We have a great deal of work ahead of us.”

  “You do,” Chakotay corrected her. “Apart from saving us from your inexperience with our systems, my people will not lift a hand to assist you.”

  Lsia shook her head sadly. “We shall see,” she replied. “Tirrit?”

  “Requesting ingress,” he replied.

  Chakotay watched in amazement as the visible energies of the field, a small fraction of the entirety of exotic radiant particles that created it, began to swirl and move before him.

  “How in the world?” Lieutenant Kim marveled beside him.

  “What is it?” Chakotay asked.

  “They’re using the protectors to carve out a clear space through the energy field,” Kim reported.

  “We should probably do the same on our way out,” Chakotay whispered.

  “You really think we’ll be able to retake the ship by then?” Kim asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “How?”

  Chakotay did not answer. Voyager was moving again, slipping inside a tunnel of empty space while around them raged an energy field unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

  Their motion was steady at full impulse. They were moving through normal space. Soon enough, the terminus came within visual range. A distant bright-white mass lay several thousand kilometers beyond the energy field.

  It wasn’t a planet.

  Voyager cleared the energy field, and Lsia slowed the ship.

  As every individual on the bridge struggled to make sense of what they were seeing, General Mattings fell to his knees.

  • • • • •

  Commander Torres and Admiral Janeway stood beside Lieutenant Barclay, who had joined them as soon as Conlon had been removed from engineering. Several of the junior engineering officers had abandoned their inoperative posts and collected themselves behind the admiral and fleet chief engineer, observing their efforts to regain control of the ship.

  Neither Janeway nor B’Elanna seemed to mind that this had become a teachable moment.

  Lieutenant Neol had taken it upon himself to monitor the feed from the bridge’s main viewscreen. From time to time he reported on Voyager’s progress under Lsia’s command. It was clear to Barclay that whatever Lsia was doing, she had planned it for months and was now executing it as quickly as possible. It obviously included taking Voyager within range of the presumed coordinates of Seriar.

  Torres had begun her work exactly as Barclay would have. Rather than immediately attempt to break into the new control sequence, which could theoretically damage many systems simultaneously, she was searching for a way to view the program Lsia had initiated. Analysis would hopefully show a weakness.

  The first problem was accessing it, and that was proving incredibly difficult. Conlon, Xolani, Barclay reminded himself, had constructed his own command pathways separate from Conlon’s command codes. Everyone’s codes were now useless, and Xolani had locked the system down before he had confronted Torres and Janeway. Nothing Torres attempted could convince the main computer to display anything beyond current status reports, all of which were nominal.

  Slight stresses on hull integrity and inertial dampeners were detected as Voyager began to utilize several subspace corridors to cut the distance between the ship and the energy field surrounding Seriar. Even Torres was surprised at how quickly the new control program responded to these potential threats, rerouting power in the same way she would have done had she had access right now.

  When Torres stood back from the control panel and crossed her arms at her chest, Barclay’s anxiety intensified.

  “We don’t have a lot of good choices here,” Torres advised Janeway.

  “Couldn’t we manually override propulsion?” an eager ensign asked from the back of the assembled pack.

  “How so?” Torres asked.

  “The first time Admiral Batiste took control of the deflector array, we intentionally broke the dish,” the ensign replied.

  “We were in open space, Quinn,” Torres reminded him. “These wastes are treacherous. We need all systems operating at peak efficiency to survive.”

  “So we don’t destroy anything. A few magnetic constrictors out of alignment and a dozen well-placed conduit leaks could slow her down and buy us some time.”

  “We’ll consider that plan S,” Torres replied.

  “S?” Janeway asked.

  “We’re going to try everything else within our power first, and if that fails and we’re totally screwed . . .”

  Janeway chuckled grimly.

  “But I like the way you’re thinking, Quinn,” Janeway noted. “We’re open to any reasonable suggestion at this point.”

  “How about an unreasonable one?” Torres asked.

  “Go ahead,” Janeway urged.

  “After Admiral Batiste pulled that stunt, I decided this was a vulnerability Starfleet had never adequately addressed,” Torres began.

  “Alien possession of a senior officer?” Janeway guessed.

  Torres nodded. “It occurred to me that our basic command code structure could be slightly modified, but it was risky if, for instance, I was the officer compromised.”

  “What did you do?” Janeway asked, equal parts alarmed and intrigued.

  “I created my own access key,” Torres said. “It is designed to override all security protocols and allow me to directly access our central processors, even if my command codes have been disabled. It targets our root files, bypasses the fail-safes, and allows me to alter our most basic programming.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Janeway asked.

  “I’ve never tested it,” Torres admitted. “After I’d finished it, I decided it was a bad idea. Even now, I don’t know if it will work. If it does, it shouldn’t take me long to override whatever Lsia has done and restore our proper command paths. If it doesn’t . . .”

  “. . . we’re screwed?” Janeway finished.

  Torres nodded again.

  Janeway sighed. “When all of this is over, you, Lieutenant Kim, and I are going to have a lengthy discussion about Starfleet protocols. The days of any officer—”

  “Wait a minute,” Torres interjected. “We didn’t survive for seven years out here by blindly adhering to the rules. We did it by following the spirit of them and making accommodations as the need arose, some of which have now become standard aboard Starfleet vessels.”

  “Improvisation in an emergency is one thing. Planning to break the rules is a little different,” Janeway countered.

  “If I’d actually followed through and tested that program, we might already have control of the ship,” Torres argued.

  Janeway shook her head, frustrated. “Where is it?”

  “In my quarters.”

  “Ensign Quinn, take three security officers to the commander’s quarters and retrieve the program file,” Janeway ordered.

  Torres provided Quinn with the location of the file at her workstation, and the ensign quickly departed.

  The ship’s motion seemed to cease abruptly. Lieutenant Neol said, “Admiral, Voyager has reached the edge of the energy field we detected.”

  “So soon?” Janeway asked.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “I wonder if there’s another option,” Barclay said suddenly as inspiration, or desperation, struck.

  “I hope so,” Torres said.

  Stepping up, Barclay moved to the interface and called up the holodeck control systems. To his surprise, and everyone else’s, he was granted access.

  “That’s interesting,” Torres noted. “
She’s taken control of every primary system, and auxiliary one, except the holodecks.”

  “It’s a discrete entity,” Barclay reminded Torres. “It has its own power systems and controls. It interfaces with the main computer for data retrieval but is otherwise autonomous. It’s also the one system Xolani was never able to compromise.”

  “But that doesn’t help us,” Torres said. “All you can do from here is run any holodeck program you’d like.”

  “All I can do,” Barclay said with emphasis, “is manage any holographic program currently running on this ship.”

  Torres considered this. Janeway seemed to understand the implication sooner. “Wasn’t Meegan’s program designed to integrate with the Galen’s systems?”

  Barclay shook his head. “As soon as the fleet’s complement was finalized, I added integration protocols for her mobile emitter and the Doctor’s to all nine of the original fleet ships, in the event they transported to one of them and their mobile emitters were damaged. That way, they could retain their functionality by routing their program automatically through the ship’s own holographic systems.”

  “How thoughtful of you, Reg,” Janeway said, beaming at him.

  “Which reminds me,” Barclay added. “I need to add that protocol to the Vesta.”

  “We’re moving again,” Neol reported.

  “Where?” Janeway asked.

  “Some sort of tunnel has been created through the energy field. We’re entering it now,” he replied.

  “Is the only way to activate this protocol and slave Lsia’s holographic matrix to Voyager’s system by damaging her mobile emitter?” Janeway asked.

  “Let’s find out. May I?”

  Torres nodded. “By all means.”

  Janeway then turned to Decan, saying, “Get to the bridge. Make sure Chakotay knows we will have options for him shortly.”

  “What are your orders for him in the meantime?” Decan asked.

  Janeway shrugged. “Captain’s discretion,” she replied.

  Barclay set to work, modifying his program to detect “Meegan’s” mobile emitter and override its autonomy. His focus became singular. All ambient sounds, including the murmured conversations of the rest of engineering, faded into so much white noise until Neol’s voice sliced through.

  “What is that?” he asked.

  Torres and Janeway stepped away from the main console and moved to Neol’s display panel.

  After a moment, Janeway said softly, “The Source.”

  • • • • •

  Captain Chakotay had no idea what he was looking at but he did understand General Mattings’s reaction. An area several million kilometers in diameter, void of any stars, planets, or debris, was surrounded by the energy field. At its center was a bright white ring that seemed to spin on an unseen axis. Its constant motion was throwing off massive amounts of exotic radiation. A steady stream of protectors collected the highly charged particles and carried them to the surrounding field, where they were contained.

  Chakotay had seen several artistic renderings of the Confederacy’s “Source” in the last few months. None of them had captured the magnificent power of whatever this thing was or the awe it truly inspired.

  “You were never looking for Seriar, were you?” Chakotay asked.

  Lsia’s eyes remained glued to the viewscreen as she replied, “Seriar was destroyed in the conflict that led up to our incarceration. This was its location, but I could not be certain he had returned here until now.”

  “That’s a life-form?” Chakotay demanded in disbelief.

  “The Obihhax,” Lsia replied. “A living god.”

  “Would you mind giving us a better look?” Chakotay requested of Tirrit.

  “It’s that one there,” Waters advised Tirrit.

  Tirrit followed her direction, and the magnification was increased until the Obihhax filled the main viewscreen. From Chakotay’s left, Lieutenant Kim let out an audible gasp.

  It wasn’t just a perfect torus. It was an ouroboros: a massive white serpentlike creature that had caught its tail in its mouth, absolute stillness in constant motion.

  “Let me guess,” Chakotay ventured, “this Obihhax is one of the creatures that your people used to carve the subspace corridors.”

  “The hax, yes,” Lsia replied, nodding. “At the height of our glory, there were dozens. They are subspace-born and must be trained to remain in normal space. They prefer to live and feed in their natural home. We taught them to carve our corridors with great precision. All but this one were destroyed in the last battle.”

  “Then what’s an Obihhax?” Kim asked.

  “In the end, nine Seriareen remained. Our ship was the Solitas. We served under Obih. We were on the run, attempting to protect the last living hax. We were confronted by a large armada of Nayseriareen. They were about to destroy the hax. There was only one way to save it. Obih was released from his body, and his consciousness entered the hax. We were captured shortly after he fled. But when I saw the vast quantity of new corridors the Confederacy claims, as well as many beyond their territory, I knew the Obihhax had survived. He must have searched for us, carving new corridors as he went. Those not sustained by new wave forms or protectors have begun to collapse. The Confederacy’s remain in use because they learned how to create new wave forms for themselves.”

  “Are the protectors naturally created by the hax?”

  “They are a by-product of its motion through subspace. They are drawn to its energy. Even now, they are tending to its needs. They are of the hax and serving it is their highest purpose,” Lsia replied. “Countless wave forms have abandoned their corridors to come here and wait on its pleasure.”

  General Mattings pulled himself to his feet. His face glistened with tears that continued to fall.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said simply.

  Lsia shrugged. “You would deny the evidence of your own eyes?”

  “Whatever use you people made of this creature thousands of years ago is no longer relevant,” the general replied. “It has a new purpose now, a sacred purpose. Do your eyes not see that?”

  “The circumference of the hax is more than a hundred kilometers,” Kim noted. “We’ve never encountered a corridor that wide.”

  “It has grown,” Lsia admitted.

  “Do you intend to use it to carve new corridors?” Chakotay guessed.

  “We must awaken it first. Obih must know that we have returned. Once that is done, he will follow us to a safer place from which to begin to rebuild our civilization. In time, all inhabitants of this quadrant and, eventually, this galaxy, will understand their proper place in the order of things. They will revere the hax, they will worship it, just as your people have come to revere and worship the Source, General,” Lsia insisted.

  “It seems to me that the people of this quadrant decided a long time ago that your idea of order was not to their liking. What makes you think now will be any different?” Chakotay asked.

  “It will take time,” Lsia conceded, “but what is time to those who live forever?”

  Lsia entered a series of new commands. Voyager’s course was altered and the ship began to move on a direct line toward the center of the Obihhax.

  “Wait,” Chakotay said. “Just how close do you intend to take us to that thing?”

  “There is only one way to rouse him,” Lsia replied.

  “Ensign Gwyn, how long until we reach the hax?”

  “Nine and a half minutes,” Gwyn replied.

  Chakotay had waited patiently until now for some sign that Kathryn, B’Elanna, or Conlon would restore control of Voyager’s systems. Time was about to be up.

  22

  PALAIS DE LA CONCORDE

  The room into which Commander Paris was led was filled with antique benches, sofas, and settees spaced artfully over dark wood floors and ornate rugs to create several intimate sitting areas, though it could easily hold a hundred people. The light-yellow walls were lined with ancient maps of
several Federation worlds.

  President Bacco moved to the nearest corner, where a small oval table rested. Crossing her arms at her chest, she said, “Let’s have it, Commander Paris.” Akaar stood at her side. The security detail was ordered to keep watch out of earshot.

  Paris nodded, then tapped his combadge again. This time, two short trills were followed by a longer signal. After a few moments of silence, during which Paris dared not breathe, the signal was repeated back to him. He placed a hand on the table to steady himself as he exhaled his relief.

  “Seven is in,” he advised them.

  “Are we in the middle of a report or a covert operation?” Akaar asked.

  “A little bit of both, sir,” Paris replied. “This combadge has been modified to allow me to retain a constant open channel with Seven.”

  “Can she hear us?” Bacco asked.

  “No, Madam President. But as soon as she is in position, we will be able to hear everything she does.”

  “Why don’t you grab us some chairs, Leonard?” Bacco asked. “Carefully; that pair over there is about seven hundred and fifty years old.”

  Tossing Paris a glance of restrained contempt, Akaar did as she had asked.

  “How much do you know about Commander Briggs?” Paris asked President Bacco.

  “I’d never heard of him until a few minutes ago,” Bacco replied.

  Akaar returned with a single chair for the president, and as she seated herself, he said, “Briggs is a senior medical research specialist. He has done groundbreaking work in genetics and epidemiology. He was the only candidate Starfleet Medical seriously considered assigning when the catomic plague was discovered.”

  “His work in genetics included extrapolating the Planarian genome,” Paris interjected. “They were an extinct race that possessed unique and powerful regenerative capabilities.”

  “Were?” Akaar asked pointedly.

  Paris nodded, but before he could continue, a female voice came clearly through his combadge. “This way,” it said simply.

  “Seven has activated her combadge,” Paris whispered.

  “I thought you said she couldn’t hear us,” Bacco whispered back.