Infinity's Prism

by Christopher L. Bennett

  “Have you shared this with the Overminister?” Neelix asked. “If we only have to make a token gesture, we should be fine.”

  Chakotay shook his head. “The Voth’s demands may be symbolic, but they want them to be memorable. They’re extorting massive amounts of tribute, demanding that planetary leaders submit to humiliating rituals…and they’re more than willing to use deadly force to get what they want. Even if we go along, the Vostigye Union could be economically crippled, politically destabilized. And we can’t afford that with the war still looming. We need to reach some diplomatic understanding with the Voth before that happens. Hopefully convince them to join the alliance. Their technology could make the difference when the time comes.”

  “It certainly could,” Neelix said. “But do you really think they’d meet with me?”

  “More likely you than me,” Chakotay told him. “After our last encounter, they made it clear that they’d prefer never to see me again. Besides, ‘nonindigenous’ beings have no status in Voth society. Since you’re from this quadrant, they might listen to you.”

  “I see your point.”

  “I’d send Kes with you if I could,” Chakotay added. “She’s done wonders for the Tarkan peace process. But she’s very much in demand already.”

  Neelix smiled, suffused with pride. “She’s become such a remarkable woman. I mean, she always was, but now—”

  “I know what you mean. But I have every confidence in your ability to speak for the alliance. You’ve done a fine job raising awareness and building bridges—not just on the crew’s behalf, but for the refugee population in general.”

  Neelix felt his muttonchops bristling at the praise. “Well, Commander…I’ve been a refugee myself for a long time. It’s my privilege to do what I can.” He frowned. “But the Voth don’t exactly have a high opinion of refugees, do they? Hmf, at least the Vostigye don’t rewrite their history to deny their origins.”

  “Don’t be so hard on the Voth. It’s hard to imagine what such an ancient civilization is like. More likely the knowledge of their origins was simply lost over the ages. Maybe they never knew it. We still don’t know whether they came here on their own or were brought here before they evolved intelligence.”

  Again, Chakotay reminded Neelix of just why he admired the man so much. Even though he had befriended Professor Gegen and had every reason to resent the Voth regime for what they had done to him, Chakotay was still able to see their point of view and show them tolerance. This was not a man Neelix would let down if he could help it.

  Right now, the Doctor was on Voyager, treating Lyndsay Ballard and a triad of worker-caste Bourget for serious injuries sustained in a construction accident. It was touch and go; he was close to losing the core member of the triad, without which the other two would be unable to think coherently for themselves. Bonding them with another member of the core gender would restore them, but they might no longer have an interest or facility for engineering. Lieutenant Ballard was badly injured as well, but fortunately Voyager had two auxiliary medical probes aboard, so the Doctor was able to use one to operate on Ballard and the other to work on the two dependent Bourget while his original holographic body tended to the core member. Thus, no triage was necessary; they could all receive the best possible care.

  Right now, the Doctor was on Ryemaren, finishing up the final phase of implant extraction and regeneration for the Borg refugees. All of them would need to retain some of their Borg implants, but he had discovered a remarkable and unanticipated talent for cosmetic surgery, restoring all eight to appearances that were not only quite natural for their species, but aesthetically pleasing as well. He was particularly satisfied with his success at creating a bionic eye that perfectly matched Annika Hansen’s surviving human one, and at stimulating the rapid regrowth of her hair, for which she had been extremely grateful. The Doctor was tempted to joke about its being a strictly vicarious pleasure for him, but of course he had no holographic body on Ryemaren, so the joke would be lost.

  Right now, the Doctor was in Moskelar Station’s hololab, giving Naomi Wildman a checkup and advising her mother to make sure she didn’t eat too many Loreschian pastries, which her human-Ktarian system could not metabolize well. Naomi pouted and called him an old grouch.

  Right now, the Doctor was in the mainframe of the central hospital in the Vyenokal habitat, coordinating emergency care for the dozens of victims of an explosion set off by Casciron extremists. Here he had an entire staff of skilled medical professionals to work with, and nominally his role was merely to serve and support them. However, they had welcomed his suggestions and knowledge almost from the start; the Vostigye, he reflected, had a far more enlightened view of artificial intelligences than the Federation did. So he could trust them to do the physical side of the work while he concentrated on the purely cybernetic: processing information, monitoring the patients’ conditions, calling up records and precedents, keeping the staff updated on the latest findings about the type of explosives used, their effects, and the optimal treatments. He also devoted some of his attention to the other patients, those whom the staff was too busy to tend to at the moment, and made sure there was no diminution in their level of care. Right now, he was carrying on a lively conversation with an elderly Quitar composer who was living out her final days in the hospital and wished to pass along her memories and experiences while she still could.

  Right now, today, the Doctor could not imagine how he had ever functioned in just a single body when there were so many people in need of his genius. True, he had been designed only as an emergency supplement, meant to fill in for a humanoid physician in a temporary capacity. But as an AI, his potential had been far greater, and once he had been integrated into the Vostigye medical network, he had finally begun to discover what he was really capable of. He’d thought it was an exercise in growth to study opera or commune with the great minds of history or create a simulated family on the holodeck. All those things had been worthwhile, true, but they had only served to make him a better humanoid. And that was only a fraction of what he was capable of being.

  Right now, he was reminded of that as a memory update came in from his most distant AMP, an extension of himself running mostly autonomously because it was too far for real-time subspace networking. Periodic data transfers ensured that it shared continuity of memory and personality with the rest of him; otherwise it might diverge and end up being more an offspring than an avatar. He may have become many things now, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to become a daddy.

  Besides, this self’s mission was too critical to leave unsupervised. Once it had become apparent that he was going to remain in this region indefinitely (even assuming his original self would eventually leave with Voyager), he had felt it incumbent upon himself to address the greatest medical crisis he had encountered in this quadrant: the Phage, the deadly degenerative syndrome that had turned the Vidiians from a once-great civilization into predators stealing healthy organs to survive. The Doctor had deployed an AMP in an unmanned craft, capable of devoting all its energy to propulsion and shielding and thus able to traverse the distance to Vidiian space—nearly a year’s travel for Voyager, albeit with numerous stops along the way—in a fraction of the time. Its small size had let it slip through the Swarm sensor grid safely, unmolested by that viciously territorial species, but the Vidiian military had captured it and attempted to extract data on Voyager’s location. So he had wiped that probe’s memory and sent another. Finally, they had gotten the message and allowed him to help.

  Unfortunately, his attempt to recruit a key colleague in the research had hit a snag, and as he synchronized the memory upload with his own consciousness, he now remembered his avatar’s attempt to apologize to her and persuade her to cooperate.

  “I’m sorry it caused you such distress to encounter me in this form,” he had told Danara Pel through his AMP body. “And I apologize that I can’t give you what we once shared. But I never intended to give you the impression that I
was being cold to you. You must understand—”

  “I know, I know,” she had told him, blinking away tears. “You told me about the memory loss you suffered when Voyager encountered the Swarm. You told me that you no longer remember falling in love with me. I don’t need you to rub it in.”

  He had wanted to tell her that he had recovered a few fragmentary memories of their time together since then, that some of the feeling remained, but that would only hurt her more under the circumstances. He regretted the pain he’d already caused her when he’d first come to her. She had been shocked by how much he had changed, and he had been a little too blunt in informing her that he was no longer the “Shmullus” she had known.

  So instead he had said, “It’s more than that. When you knew me before, I was programmed to think of myself as essentially humanoid. I existed in a single humanoid body, pursued humanoid interests and interactions. As you can see, that’s no longer the case.”

  “But you were the one who taught me that physical form doesn’t matter!”

  “It isn’t just in form that I’ve changed. This robot isn’t me, Danara. It’s just one of the many appendages I control. My awareness is…interstellar now. I exist simultaneously on hundreds of ships and habitats, providing medical treatment to thousands of people at once.”

  “So no one person can truly matter to you anymore? Is that it? You’ve just grown too big to care about us?”

  “I care more than ever, Danara! That’s just it! I’m caring for so many different people now that I could never give my exclusive attention to any one person, any one thing. I’ve become so much bigger, gained so much more ability to save lives and care for those in need.”

  She had blinked away tears. “And is there no room in your life for anything else?”

  “Yes, there is. But at any given moment when I’m engaged in recreation or personal discussion, other parts of me are conducting surgery or research. I still value my personal connections, but they’re just one facet of a larger, more…intangible existence.” He had simulated a sigh. “I wish I knew how to convey what it’s like for me. There just aren’t any words for it.

  “The important thing is, I never intended to make you feel insignificant. Whether I remember it fully or not, you played an important role in my personal growth. And I’m grateful for that, even though my growth has taken me in a different direction. I hope that we can still be friends. And I hope that you can find it within yourself to work with me on curing the Phage.”

  As he absorbed the memory, awaiting her reply, he found himself reflecting on his new existence. He had gained so much. He was helping so many people. Lieutenant Ballard and the core Bourget were stabilizing. Annika was smiling at him. Samantha Wildman was thanking him as she left with her daughter. The Quitar musician was singing, her voice too weak to carry, but his AMP’s receptors picked it up and stored it for posterity. But now he found himself wondering if, in growing so far, he had lost something. If maybe there were special joys unique to being small and singular, ones he would never know again.

  After a moment, Danara had stepped closer to his AMP body. “I suppose it’s very childish of me to refuse to work with you on saving my people because of a broken heart.”

  “Not at all. It’s well established that romantic losses can cause clinical depression and impair performance in humanoids of any age.”

  She had laughed. “It’s odd that I find that comforting. But no, I have been very selfish. What you’ve become…it sounds remarkable. It’s unfair of me to reject you just because you’ve become something different. I’d…I’d like the chance to get to know the new you. Even if we can never be more than friends.”

  “We’ll be more than friends,” he had assured her. “We’ll be the ones who save your people from the Phage. Together.”

  In the memory upload, Danara smiled. All across Vostigye space and beyond, those parts of the Doctor that were not too busy with life-and-death operations paused and took a moment to appreciate the sight.

  7

  Janeway did not appreciate being unceremoniously ordered to pull herself away from Voyager’s repairs and beam to the Overminister’s office. So she was in a cranky mood when she arrived. Seeing Chakotay there too, along with Vitye Megon and most of the Council of Ministers, didn’t ease her irritation. “Overminister Rosh. What’s so urgent that it couldn’t—”

  “Kathryn,” Chakotay said. “The Voth have captured Neelix. A city ship has just dropped out of transwarp on the border and is making its way here at warp seven.”

  “Is Neelix all right?”

  “As far as we can tell, he’s just being detained,” Rosh told her. “But the Voth have made their purpose known.” He hesitated, just barely. “They are…ordering us…to turn over Voyager’s crew.”

  He nodded to an aide, who activated a replay on the main monitor. A hard-edged reptilian face appeared, one Janeway found very familiar. “This is Sanctioner Haluk of the Voth,” he announced, and Janeway recognized his voice; he had commanded the forces that had boarded Voyager in their first encounter. “Let it be known that the crew of the starship Voyager are known enemies of Voth authority. Your attempt to send a member of Voyager’s crew as your emissary is a direct affront to our authority. If the Vostigye Union does not wish to be declared an enemy as well, you will turn over all of Voyager’s personnel for immediate trial. Remember that you are granted your present way of life only through our indulgence.”

  Janeway turned to Rosh. “How do you intend to respond to this…ultimatum?”

  “It is not Vostigye policy,” Rosh said proudly, “to submit to threats and intimidation.”

  “Be realistic,” Megon interposed. “The Voth are millions of years beyond us. We have no way to stand against them.”

  “Again you underestimate our people, Vitye. We would not fall so easily.”

  “Perhaps not. But we would lose countless lives in the battle. Is it worth it for a few eights of refugees? Give them what they want and they will leave us be.”

  “Is that the position of the Preservationist bloc?”

  “I speak for them. Sacrifice our military in a futile defense of these aliens and you will lose whatever tenuous support you have left. Your coalition will lose its place in the government.”

  “I think you’re being overly optimistic, Subspeaker,” Chakotay told Megon. “The Voth won’t be satisfied with leaving you unharmed. In their view, you’ve defied their authority, and they’ll want to punish you.”

  “They’ll do that simply by taking the Voyagers away,” Rosh said. “Losing the Doctor program would be a devastating blow to our medical establishment. And we certainly don’t want Kes to fall into unfriendly hands, do we?”

  “So that’s all that matters to you?” Janeway challenged. “What you get out of our presence?”

  “Kathryn,” Chakotay said.

  “She has a point,” Megon said. “As do you, Overminister. The medical intelligence and the Ocampa are both of great value to us. But one is an extension of Voyager’s technology and the other was merely their passenger. Perhaps we could persuade the Voth to let us keep them when we turn over the others.”

  “You’d be turning us over to our deaths,” Janeway said.

  “And you would have us throw away countless Vostigye lives along with yours.”

  Rosh sighed heavily. “Open a channel to the city ship. We need to begin negotiations, see if some understanding can be reached.”

  Janeway stared at him. “You’re not seriously considering her suggestion?”

  “I must consider all possibilities. I must do what is necessary for those I am sworn to protect. As a leader yourself, you must understand this.”

  Soon, Haluk’s face was on the viewer again. “There can be no negotiation,” he said, cutting off Rosh’s overtures. “Turn over the Voyager crew or suffer the consequences.”

  “A number of Voyager’s personnel have brought considerable benefit to our people,” Rosh countered. “T
hey have helped promote peace and cooperation with our neighbors. It is in that spirit of cooperation that I—”

  “Do not mistake us for your ‘neighbors,’ endotherm. You are tenants in our home space. Your fleeting mammalian civilization is a passing thought by our standards. We could easily take the Voyager crew. It is as a courtesy that we give you the opportunity to surrender them yourselves, as a gesture of loyalty to the Voth.”

  Megon spoke up. “Some of us are prepared to make that gesture, Sanctioner Haluk.”

  “Vitye, be still!”

  “This is a democracy, Overminister. I am prepared to assemble the Legislature and call for a vote of no confidence right now.”

  “To cave in under threat!”

  “To protect our people. Either way, you would not prevail.” She turned back to Haluk. “However, we would request that you allow us to retain the medical intelligence program derived from Voyager’s technology, as well as the young Ocampa who traveled as their passenger for a time. Hers is a race indigenous to the region. Oh, and the Talaxian envoy as well. He offers a fair amount of entertainment value to our people.”

  “The Talaxian has defied our authority and must pay for his affront.” Haluk paused. “However, the Voth are willing to be generous. You may retain the other indigenous endotherm and the medical software, if you deliver the rest of Voyager’s crew without delay.”

  “Subspeaker Megon does not have the authority to negotiate for this government,” Rosh interposed.