Renaii closed her violet eyes, sacrificing for a moment her view of the stars, and took a deep breath of the air around her. She stood perfectly still, her dark skin and hair making her nearly invisible in the night, as her chest expanded and contracted with her respiration. It was still dirtier, dustier than the air recycled by the plant life her people had cultivated in the vast network of underground caverns in the past three hundred years, but she swore what she breathed now was the freshest she’d ever inhaled.
Her eyelids opened, almost of their own volition—the [329] sight of stars was too precious to be wasted. She could breathe just as deeply with her eyes open and toward the sky as she could blind and standing neutral. Even the normal sting of ash in the air was virtually unnoticeable tonight; three days had allowed a great deal of ash to dissipate. The experience was something she relished. It was also something she did not wish to keep to herself.
“You really should come out here,” she called to the man through the door she’d left open in the side of the rock face. He was tall, the tiny patch of gray hair at his temple having grown slowly but steadily over the last few years. “It’s so clean, and beautiful. It hasn’t been this clean since we were married.”
The man looked up from the rock he was engraving. It was a picture of a creature from his native planet, a mighty beast with thick fur and a noble snout, posing in an almost humanoid stance. The carver had no supplies to color the animal its proper deep brown, but it looked majestic enough in the subtle shades of gray of the stone.
He purposely did not put down his fine carving knife. “Stargazing again, Renaii?”
Her smile was tempered slightly, but at the same time turned up as well by her husband’s subtle teasing. “It’s not as if we often get the chance.”
The man had returned to slowly chipping away at a section of his stone. “You mean you don’t often get the chance.”
Renaii turned back toward the door. “It’s rare. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s out of reach.” The carver carved, more vigorously now, keeping all but a fraction of his attention firmly focused on the stone in his hands. “It’s the past—it’s my past. I can’t go back to that—no one can.”
[330] Renaii strode into their home, took the stone from her husband’s hands, and placed it on the table with her own hand over it, to prevent him from retrieving it. “Looking at the stars won’t hurt you. You can’t hide out in this cave all the time, not when the chance to stand outside is so uncommon.”
“Staying here is exactly what I have to do,” he said, but Renaii had already pulled him out of doors. “The stars aren’t part of me anymore, I’ve accepted that. I enjoy that, in fact.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t look at them.”
The pair stood on the surface of the planet, unprotected by any heavy clothing or gear, a rare opportunity. They gazed, unspeaking, into the dark—but brighter than many—night. Despite the relatively clear conditions, there was still a fair amount of dust in the air, and there would always be the normal distortion of the atmosphere to muffle the intensity of the stars’ luminosity. But Renaii, the man knew, had no way of knowing that, or at least of fully appreciating that. She had never seen the stars unfiltered, unobstructed, bare.
He raised his arm, pointing to the heavens. “Those points of light out there—they aren’t truly right there, where we see them, at all. The light has been bent, refracted, through the atmosphere of this planet, so that what seems to be directly that way really just bounced there through layers of gases. Even if we escaped that, though, we still wouldn’t get an accurate picture. The closest of those stars is billions of kilometers away; its light has traveled for years to get here, and by now, that star isn’t in that place anymore. The effect is amplified for every other star. Some of them, we’re looking at them as they were thousands of years ago.” His eyes became farther away than that. “Looking at that sky ... it’s [331] looking at the past.” He lowered his face, glowered at the ground.
Renaii had the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. “I know my astrophysics,” she said. “My ancestors were spacefaring, just like you were.” She found no reflection of her own amusement in her partner’s face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you come out here. I’m sure it’s hard enough to let go of the stars.”
The man quickly brought his head up. “I’ve let go. This is my home now,” he assured her, holding her shoulders. “I’m content I’m living with the woman I love. What more could a man ask?”
Renaii’s smile returned, with much greater intensity this time. “Everyone else has gone to bed. We probably should too.”
“I tried,” the man answered, his mood lightening, “but it’s kind of difficult when your wife is pacing in and out of the house.”
“Well, I promise I’ll go to sleep this time,” she replied, grinning. “Or at least I’ll stay in bed. What happens from there is up to you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
They started to head back inside, and Renaii was suddenly picked up by her husband and carried across the doorway. She giggled and hugged the man close. “Oh, I love you, Chakotay.”
Her husband just smiled and kissed her.
Another woman had also been standing outside, gazing at the stars; she had been entirely motionless for several minutes, letting the tiny (in appearance) specks of light occupy [332] her whole consciousness. Perhaps “letting” is the wrong word:, there was little she could do to stop herself from becoming lost in the bright white pinholes above her, for a short time at least. They called to her, as they always had, even when she couldn’t see them. But tonight was the most vivid reminder of that calling she had experienced in four years. It was not something she was able to ignore.
But she had come back into the tunnels since then. It would not help to stare at the stars, especially these stars. She had seen them from countless angles, at countless distances, and the picture she’d seen above her was no more than a dim duplicate of what she knew the stars could really be. She had resumed walking toward Nelistrom, one of the many underground villages scattered across this continent of the planet. It was the third day of her journey, and she wanted to be able to sleep in Nelistrom before visiting the small residence, just beyond the outskirts of the village, that was her goal in the morning.
Kathryn Janeway sighed. It would have been so much easier had Chakotay decided to keep his combadge like most of the rest of the crew; but after the crash, he had been one of the people most willing to adapt to a new life here. He’d seemed almost scared to retain anything at all from his life on Voyager; he had instantly immersed himself in the local culture of the first village the crew lived in together; he’d given away his uniform and all his instruments; and these days, he never kept in touch with any of his shipmates.
Not that Janeway could completely absolve herself of that last crime; it had become increasingly more difficult to maintain contact with people she no longer could officially command, as the years went by and she became more and [333] more attached to the Trevin who lived in her home village. Her lip turned upward at that thought. Her village. It was only recently that she had even begun to think of it as home. Four years ago, her only intent was to spend a few nights there while brainstorming ideas with her crew on how to get themselves off Draanis IV. It had been considerably more than a few nights before she could bring herself to accept that there was no way to leave, as badly damaged as their starship was, as restrictive as the planet’s abnormal gravity well was.
She laughed openly at that thought. The planet. She was glad, now, to have never given up hope. True, the solution was not anything like she had expected, but nevertheless, it was a solution. As it happened, getting off the planet was unnecessary.
For they were not on a planet.
Chakotay picked at his breakfast, stringy green vegetables grown with difficulty in the low light of the caverns. Grown, he told himself. Not replicated. Not even stored from whatever we could find
on alien worlds and packed into our cargo holds. This is fresh—this is the real thing. The vegetables were actually not all that unpleasant, but it was all that had been available for a while now; for some reason, little else was growing. He swallowed them down, slowly, but without complaint. He wouldn’t want to upset Renaii.
She couldn’t help noticing his forlorn expression, though. “I know, verethi again, but it’s all we lowly farmers have been able to harvest so far. The other plants are just taking longer to ripen than usual.”
“It’s fine. Just a bit odd that the only thing that’s growing [334] is the vegetable with the most questionable reputation for appeal. I think it’s a farmer conspiracy.”
She took a hefty bite of her own, making sure to show that she was enjoying it. “Hey—the soil pH is way off this year, and that’s screwing up all the crops. I know you artists of the community don’t like to worry about those kinds of things, but we deal with reality down there, unlike you. Admit it—you depend on us.”
Chakotay grinned. “After you admit living wouldn’t be worth it if it weren’t for us useless artists.”
Renaii returned the smile. It was hardly the first time they’d had this mock argument. “You can think that if you like,” she hedged without any conviction, admiring another of her husband’s carvings.
“I’ll think that,” Chakotay returned confidently, “and I’ll be right.”
They were interrupted by four quick raps on the door leading further into the caverns, toward the village proper. They turned at the sound.
Chakotay stood up first. “I’ll get it,” he said, walking to the door.
“Careful,” Renaii teased, “it might be the farmer secret police coming to arrest you.”
“I’ll take my chances,” he replied, hand on the doorknob. He opened the wooden door, expecting one of the townspeople; they often stopped by in the morning, curious to see what the “new” artist was up to now.
His expectations were not met
“Hello, Chakotay,” said a voice from a face he had not seen in four years.
Chakotay, usually an eloquent man, stared dumbly at [335] Kathryn Janeway for several seconds, his mouth stuck slightly open. He stuttered, neither smiling nor frowning, still registering the sight of her. She took the weight from his shoulders momentarily.
“A ‘in’ would be sufficient,” she said with a twinkle.
“Hi,” Chakotay quickly returned, exhaling heavily.
“It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you.” He was still deciding if he meant it.
“You didn’t have to repeat that.” Janeway smiled. “May I come in?”
Chakotay stepped out of the door frame. “Yes, of course ... please. I’m sorry ... this is kind of unexpected.”
“Sorry to drop in unannounced,” she replied, striding in slowly, glancing around, “but I had no method of contacting you directly, and sending a message through one of the villagers seemed awkward.”
“Dropping in on a married man and getting that reaction certainly qualifies as awkward, in my book,” Renaii said coyly from her seat at the table. “You cheating on me again, Chakotay?”
Janeway flinched a millimeter. “Seems I’ve missed a bit here,” she said.
“Long story,” Chakotay interjected quickly, “a running joke.” He turned to his wife. “Renaii, this is Kathryn Janeway, the woman who commanded Voyager before—and slightly after—the crash. Kathryn, my wife, Renaii.”
The two women touched the tips of all their fingers in the customary Trevin greeting. “A pleasure,” Janeway said.
Renaii nodded. “Likewise. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Well, I wish I could say the same,” Janeway said [336] flippantly, casting a sidelong glance at Chakotay. “Your husband here hasn’t kept in contact since we arrived here.”
“Yes, he’s always been rather hermitty. He loves everyone; he just doesn’t talk to them that much.”
“I wanted to fully embrace our new life, Kathryn,” Chakotay said. “I know I haven’t sought out my former shipmates, but that’s just because they’re not my shipmates anymore. Voyager is gone. I told you four years ago—if we’re going to live here, I might as well make it my home.”
Janeway looked over at Renaii for a second before turning back to Chakotay. “Actually,” she began slowly, “that’s what I came to talk to you about.” She stopped and glanced at Renaii again, fleetingly.
She got the message. “Um, you two can talk alone for a minute, if you like,” she said, turning around the table and heading into the next room.
Chakotay never took his eyes off Janeway. “You still haven’t given up, have you?”
“I’m glad I never did, Chakotay.” Janeway had excitement in her eyes. “I’ve made a remarkable discovery. We are not on Draanis IV. We’re not on any planet at all.”
Chakotay dropped his eyes to the floor. “Kathryn, you know I respect you. I always have. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.” He grasped her shoulders. “No one was hit with this harder than you. You had the most difficult time making the adjustment to living here after Voyager was caught in this planet’s gravity well. We are here. You have to accept that.”
“No I don’t,” she insisted, “because it’s not true. We are not marooned on a volcanic planet with a subspace-warped gravity well. We are on a holodeck.”
[337] Chakotay couldn’t help chuckling. “A holodeck. Kathryn, it’s been four years. The ship couldn’t possibly run itself for that long while its entire crew is cooped up in one room. Come to think of it, you couldn’t even get the whole crew into one holodeck, even with its artificial distance mapping.”
“The whole crew isn’t here. Most of them died in the crash—at least, that’s what this simulation has as its scenario. Hear me out.” Her last statement was a command, something Chakotay was used to seeing in her—but wished he didn’t see now.
“All right,” he said after a moment. “I’m listening.”
She took a seat at the table, and gestured for him to do the same. “A few days ago, I was climbing a rock face in one of the less-explored caves outside of my village. I got a little reckless, and I wasn’t careful about some of my steps. As a result of one of my more adventurous and creative leaps, my foot missed the crevice I was aiming for. I fell several hundred meters.”
“And you survived?” Chakotay was incredulous.
“Not only did I survive,” Janeway emphasized, “but I didn’t have a scratch. I was hardly even sore. Don’t you see? No one could come out of a fall like that completely unharmed. The holodeck safeties must have recently been reactivated.”
“I hate to be a doubting Thomas,” Chakotay responded, “but there have been documented cases where people have survived falls from great heights. It’s uncommon, and amazing, but it does happen.” He rose and walked to her side of the table. “I don’t think you can base an entire theory on this one bit of evidence. You’re holding on too tightly to the past, [338] Kathryn.” He caught notice of a gray shape around her waist. “Look at you. You’re still carrying your phaser and your tricorder. That’s not our life anymore.”
Janeway rose as well. “I can see it’s not going to be easy to convince you.”
She drew her phaser, pressing the right-hand button repeatedly to maximize the device’s power setting. She pointed it at a corner and fired, vaporizing a large metal pot with a violent sizzle and a swirl of red. She then reversed the weapon, pointing it directly at her own stomach.
“Kathryn, what are you—”
She fired.
The churning red beam slammed into her body, and a portion of her clothes glowed hotly red. But she remained standing, her expression unchanged. After a few seconds, she lowered the phaser. The glowing spot disappeared.
Renaii rushed into the room, spurred by the loud noise moments before. “Chakotay, what’s—”
“A few more minutes, Renaii,” Chakotay interrupted, never moving
his intent stare from his former captain. He tore his eyes away to look into Renaii’s. “Please.”
She returned the gaze, but said nothing. She slowly walked out of the room again.
Chakotay took a long time to start thinking again. He let his mind go blank first, to prevent his conflicting thoughts from slugging each other out and totally robbing him of his rationality. He turned to Janeway. “That could have been arranged as well.”
“But you know it wasn’t. I’d have no reason to.” She placed the phaser on the table. “You can try it yourself, if you like. I can guarantee it won’t hurt you. I salvaged it from [339] the wreck of Voyager after my fall, and after I’d done several other things to myself I never would have under normal circumstances, to make sure I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t.”
Chakotay picked up the weapon, but did nothing other than look at it with confusion.
“This life we’ve been leading for the past four years is a lie, Chakotay. If it were real, I’d be dead right now. There’s someone outside the holodeck, someone who reactivated the safety protocols.”
Chakotay glared at her. “So why not just end the program?” he asked angrily. “You’ve gotten everything perfectly figured out, Kathryn. Just end everything.”
“I can’t.” Janeway was stolid. “Whoever is out there hasn’t been able to restore voice control or open the doors. It’s possible they can’t. We have to find a way out from in here. And I’d like your help.”
“So you’re just going to destroy everything that we’ve been through? We’ve built lives here. And I think it’s damn arrogant of you to come into my home and tell me it’s not real, just because you don’t want to accept that we have to stay here.”
“You don’t really believe that.” Janeway came around the table. “I know this is a shock, but you just saw the proof. Draanis IV, Nelistrom, Renaii—they’re all just parts of this program. You let go four years ago, Chakotay. You have to let go now.”
STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds I Page 28
