Star Trek Voyager: Unworthy Read online

  B’Elanna had surprised him when they awoke by insisting that he give her an hour and then meet her in holodeck three. He assumed she was going to show him some of the rough work she had been doing on holographic educational scenarios for Miral and was looking forward to it. His heart sank appreciably when the holodeck doors slid open and Harry entered.

  Harry appeared as dumbfounded as Tom was to see him there.

  “I’m sorry,” Harry said immediately, turning toward the door.

  “Harry …” Tom attempted, hoping to try and bridge at least some of the palpable distance present whenever they were in the same room anymore.

  “No, I must have misheard Nancy,” Harry cut him off.

  “Oh,” Tom said, smiling sincerely. “You’ve got a date with Nancy ?”

  Harry rolled his eyes. “Lieutenant Conlon and I are working out,” he corrected him a little too forcefully. “Excuse me, Commander,” he added for good measure. When he reached the holodeck doors, they remained shut.

  “Computer, unlock the door,” Harry commanded.

  “Unable to comply.”

  Tom’s concern level shot up a notch and he crossed to the holodeck control panel beside the door.

  “Computer, on whose authority was this door locked?” Tom demanded.

  “Overrides established by the supreme leader of the universe, the majestic and all-powerful Chaotica.”

  Harry and Tom turned to one another, their faces mirroring each other’s confusion.

  “Computer, Commander Thomas Paris orders you to override Chaotica’s orders,” Tom attempted. “Authorization epsilon beta nine six.”

  “That security authorization has been disabled.”

  “I bet they still haven’t got all of Admiral Batiste’s encrypted files out of the system,” Harry suggested, tapping the manual override on the control panel.

  He was stilled in his work by a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he saw a monochromatic and inhospitable wasteland stretching over kilometers. In the distance, one of Chaotica’s many castles rose on a ridgeline.

  “I don’t think that’s it,” Tom said.

  “Greetings, mongrels,” the unmistakable voice of Chaotica boomed all around them.

  Tom scanned the desert as the winds began to pick up around him and Harry.

  “There,” Harry said, pointing to a train of attendants moving toward them. Soon enough Counselor Cambridge, bedecked in Chaotica’s fine, flowing robes and black headpiece, appeared. The counselor was riding a huge and fierce tusked animal that resembled an elephant but probably wasn’t anywhere near as docile. The creature came to rest ten meters from them and Cambridge descended from its back, stepping on the shoulders and then prostrate backs of his many armed servants.

  “Welcome to the far end of the universe,” Cambridge said imperiously.

  “Look, Counselor,” Tom said, stepping forward, “I don’t know what this is …”

  “This is our first counseling session,” Cambridge replied. “For weeks your commanding officers and fellow crewmates have expressed concern about the state of your professional and personal relationship. Having reviewed your files thoroughly, I have selected the most appropriate counseling milieu based upon your respective levels of emotional maturity. This is not a simulation, gentlemen—my garish attire notwithstanding. The holodeck safeties have been turned off and you will not be allowed to leave this room until I am satisfied that you have both managed to resolve your present, petty differences.”

  “I … protest!” Harry stammered.

  “You may take that up with the captain when we’re done here,” Cambridge replied. “You have both been cleared from Voyager’s duty rosters until such time as I see fit to reinstate you.”

  “I …” Harry began again.

  “Forget it, Buster,” Tom replied. “There’s only one way out of this.”

  “You are correct about one thing,” Cambridge interjected. “The only way out is through. You are not, however, addressing Buster Kincaid, faithful sidekick of Captain Proton, Mister Paris. For our purposes, you will not have access to any of their tools or equipment.” Cambridge waved a regal hand and in an instant, Tom and Harry’s uniforms were replaced with the black-and-white equivalent of rags. “You are both maggots … unnamed slaves … and like the rest of this world you will bow before Chaotica, or you will die.”

  “This unnamed slave bows before no one,” Tom replied.

  “Me either,” Harry added.

  “Excellent,” Cambridge replied with a wide smile. “Then let the games begin.”

  Tom was momentarily blinded by a whirring of dust erupting at Cambridge’s feet. As the storm gathered intensity, Chaotica’s forces were concealed within it and when it began to disperse, Tom and Harry found themselves alone.

  “Damn,” Harry said.

  “What?”

  “I wish I’d eaten before I came.”

  Tom slapped him on the back to buck him up. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you something. I bet that castle is full of food.”

  Harry began trudging toward it wordlessly, straining with each step as the deep and shifting sands moved beneath their feet.

  Tom hurried to keep pace. “You know,” he began, “I can’t remember the last time you and I had time for this kind of thing.”

  Harry merely shrugged.

  “It could be fun,” Tom continued, trying desperately to make the best of it.

  “This isn’t going to fix anything,” Harry muttered. “It’s stupid and pointless, just like every Captain Proton program we ever ran together.”

  “So now you’re not even interested in having fun ?” Tom exclaimed. “You really have changed, Harry.”

  “No I haven’t,” he countered hotly. “You have.”

  “Here we go,” Tom began.

  “Later,” Harry said, his eyes looking past Tom’s and widening in alarm.

  “No, let’s talk about it now,” Tom insisted. “This is ridiculous. You’re my best friend and I’m not going to let this go …”

  “Later!” Harry screamed, tackling Tom to the ground as an energy bolt flew over their heads.

  “What the hell was that?” Tom asked.

  “I don’t know,” Harry said, covering his head as more pulses began to pound the sand around them.

  Tom quickly assessed the situation and started to pull Harry to his feet.

  “What are you—” Harry demanded.

  “Run! Now!” Tom replied, breaking for a low hill of swirling sand, the only nearby cover.

  Turning back, they both saw the approaching troops. They weren’t human and they were heavily armed.

  “I’m with you,” Harry agreed.

  Crying out in unison, they threw themselves over the crest of the hill.

  B’Elanna was tapping her foot nervously and biting fitfully on her thumbnail when Counselor Cambridge emerged from the holodeck, smiling.

  “Well?” Nancy demanded.

  “Thank you both for agreeing to aid me in getting these two patients to their first session.”

  “Did you really turn off the safeties?” B’Elanna asked nervously.

  “Even if he did, I can override that,” Nancy assured her.

  “Of course, I didn’t,” Cambridge replied, clearly offended. “I’m mad, but I’m not mad, if you take my meaning.”

  B’Elanna didn’t and from the look on Nancy’s face, neither did she. Of course the ridiculous flowing robes and villainous black moustache did little to instill confidence.

  “How long do you think this is going to take?” B’Elanna asked.

  “As long as it takes,” Cambridge replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a planet to destroy.” With an evil and joyful “Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha,” Cambridge turned on his heel, his cape swirling around him, punctuating his movement as he reentered the holodeck.

  “What have we done?” Nancy asked when they were again alone.

  “I don’t know,” B’Elanna replied. “I just hope it works
.”

  Deep in her heart of hearts, B’Elanna suspected it would.

  “Want to grab breakfast?” Nancy asked.

  “Are you a fan of banana pancakes?” B’Elanna replied.

  “Never tried them.”

  “Oh, you don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

  “Really?”

  Chakotay decided that the bridge’s center seat was a lot more comfortable than he remembered. He knew that the bridge had been completely refitted in his absence, but he hadn’t expected the upgrades to include relative luxuries. He turned to the empty seat to his left. By now, Tom and Harry should both be well into their first counseling session. Chakotay smiled at the thought of both of them at the mercy of Cambridge. He had no doubt that soon enough they’d come to their senses. The counselor was singularly skilled at forcing people to confront their own idiocy—a fact Chakotay could attest to from personal experience.

  “Captain?” Lasren asked from ops.

  “Yes, Ensign?”

  “ Hawking and Galen report ready to depart.”

  “Very good.” Chakotay nodded.

  “If I may, sir?”

  “Yes, Lasren?”

  “Are Commander Paris and Lieutenant Kim unwell?”

  Though Lieutenant Maplethorpe had taken Harry’s place at tactical for this shift, Chakotay had refrained from assigning another officer to take Tom’s place.

  “Are you worried I’m going to ask you to take command of the bridge?” Chakotay asked.

  “No, sir,” Lasren replied, brightening at the thought.

  “Both Commander Paris and Lieutenant Kim have been assigned to a special project and will not be needed on the bridge for the next several days.”

  “I see, sir,” Lasren replied.

  “Helm?” Chakotay asked, turning back to face the main viewscreen.

  “Ready to engage warp engines on your order, sir,” Gwyn reported.

  It had already been determined that the fleet vessels would clear the area of subspace instabilities between the Indign system and the site of the former Borg transwarp hub before moving into coordinated slipstream flight.

  “Captain Eden to the bridge,” Chakotay called over the comm.

  After a short pause, Eden replied, “Acknowledged.”

  She exited the turbolift a few moments later and crossed immediately to Chakotay.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “We’re ready to rejoin the fleet, Captain,” Chakotay said simply.

  Eden gazed at him curiously. Moving gingerly to take the seat on his right she asked softly, “Didn’t I already give you clearance to depart at your discretion?”

  “You did.”

  “Then, what am I doing here?”

  Chakotay did his best to hide a smile, though he was sure his eyes were giving him away. “I realize you’re terribly busy commanding the fleet and all. I just want to make sure that while you’re on Voyager, you don’t miss any of the fun stuff.”

  Eden stifled a chuckle. “The fun stuff?”

  Chakotay sat back and gazed toward the starfield adorning the viewscreen. “We’re heading out again into the vast unknown,” he replied. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  Eden matched his posture, settling herself into her chair.

  “Now that you mention it, it really does,” she replied.

  “Ensign Gwyn, are you ready to see what else is out there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Bring the warp drive online,” Chakotay ordered. “Set course bearing one four six mark two. Warp five.”

  “Planning on doing some sightseeing?” Eden asked.

  “At warp five?” Chakotay asked.

  Eden shrugged. “This ship does warp nine point nine without breaking a sweat.”

  “I remember.”

  “A slipstream velocity makes that look positively subdued.”

  “I remember that too.”

  “So?”

  “We have two days until we regroup with the rest of the fleet. We could be there in minutes, but I thought the point was to explore. Our sensor readings will be more thorough if we take it a little slower.”

  “True,” Eden agreed.

  “Course laid in,” Gwyn advised.

  “Any objections?” Chakotay asked.

  “You’re the captain,” Eden replied.

  Damn right, Chakotay thought, smiling inwardly.

  With a wink to Eden, Chakotay ordered the helm to engage.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  We’re adding some new names to the roundup of usual suspects who help make this work possible. First among them, Margaret Clark, who assumed editing duties halfway through this process under daunting circumstances. I know that in the private sector nobody gets a medal for showing up and doing their job every day but there are times when I think it should be done anyway and this is one of them.

  The second is Kevin Dilmore. There are sometimes dark days in the creation of a story when the best of us finds it hard to trust our instincts. He patiently reminded me to do just that and it helped more than he can possibly know.

  This novel is the end result of a process that began years ago; a re-imagining of the Voyager universe. During that time, my family, friends, and fellow authors have listened patiently as I thought through these stories out loud, and provided many important insights along the way. They also demonstrated admirable patience as I distanced myself from much more pleasant activities to complete this work. They have both my apologies and my gratitude.

  Special thanks to my husband, David, who continues to amaze me daily; my mother, Patricia, and my brothers Matt and Paul; to Heather, Samantha, Vanessa, Tara, Chris, Fred, Marianne, Freddie, Vivian, and Ollie Jane; to Maura; to Lynne; to David Mack, Chris Bennett, Keith DeCandido, William Leisner, and Christie Golden.

  Last and most important, however, to Marco Palmieri. He was the first to invite me to this party, and this book began under his watchful eye. His passion and creativity have inspired me and countless other authors to reach deeper and push harder than we thought we could in the name of creating meaningful and exciting Trek fiction. He has left an indelible mark upon my work and deserves every kind word that has ever been said about him. I do wonder if I am truly worthy of the faith he placed in me. I know that he gave more than most readers will ever realize to the world of Star Trek, and in honor of that, I dedicate this work to him and to the bright future that no doubt lies ahead of him.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kirsten Beyer, in addition to Unworthy, is the author of its immediate predecessor, Star Trek: Voyager—Full Circle; the last Buffy book ever, One Thing or Your Mother; Star Trek: Voyager—String Theory: Fusion; the Alias APO novel Once Lost; and contributed the short stories “Isabo’s Shirt” to the Distant Shores anthology and “Widow’s Weeds” to the Space Grunts anthology.

  Kirsten appeared in Los Angeles productions of Johnson over Jordan, This Old Planet, and Harold Pinter’s The Hothouse, which the L.A. Times called “unmissable.” She also appeared in the Geffen Playhouse’s world premiere of Quills and has been seen on General Hospital and Passions, among others.

  Kirsten has undergraduate degrees in English literature and theater arts, and a master of fine arts from UCLA. She is currently working on her first original novel.

  She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, David, and their very fat cat, Owen.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

&nb
sp; CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX