Only then did Patel say, “Thanks, Gwyn. You almost got both of us on report. Push it much?”
Gwyn sighed. “I don’t think Seven was offended. I’m not sure it’s even possible to offend her. And Kim has been in a crap mood for weeks. Nothing I do or say is going to change that. It’s not my fault, or yours. But just because his life is hard right now doesn’t mean the rest of us have to cover our faces with chiicsel, rub sorgh in our hair, and wear black mealtisa wraps.”
“Yes, observing full Kriosian mourning might be taking things too far. But common courtesy, not going out of your way to tick him off would be a good idea.”
“The Sevenofninonium thing was not out of the way. It was right there in front of both of us. Somebody had to say it.”
Patel smirked in spite of herself. “Of course a former Borg, now Caeliar-catomic enhanced mission specialist who just happens to look like a cross between a Grecian, Thettin, and Hyliat goddess would be the one to discover a brand-new element.”
“Naturally,” Gwyn agreed.
“How many times has she single-handedly saved the universe?” Patel asked.
“I stopped counting after the fifth . . . or was it sixth time?” Gwyn asked. “Just don’t be bitter because she’s beautiful, Devi. That’s beneath you.”
“Oh, I’m not. I’m bitter because despite the fact that she never even attended Starfleet Academy, has never accepted a Starfleet commission, has no official rank or the attendant privileges, she is and will always be the first person on Voyager that Captain Chakotay looks to whenever the solution to any science issue isn’t already displayed on his terminal.”
“As opposed to?” Gwyn asked.
“His actual senior science officer,” Patel replied, punching Gwyn in the upper arm.
“Ow. I know. I was just teasing,” Gwyn said, automatically applying pressure with her free hand. “That hurt.”
“Sorry,” Patel said, but clearly wasn’t.
“You know, if you get your ass out there and discover a brand-new element yourself, maybe that’ll change,” Gwynn suggested.
Patel finished stowing the portable magnetic particle imager and flopped down in the navigator’s chair beside Gwyn. “No, it won’t,” she said seriously.
Gwyn’s eyes met Devi’s in silent commiseration. Several of Voyager’s senior officers, including Captain Chakotay, Commanders Tom Paris and B’Elanna Torres, and Lieutenant Harry Kim, had spent years together traveling through the Delta Quadrant in a valiant attempt to return home after an alien technology had flung them to the far end of the galaxy on their maiden trek. Seven of Nine (Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01), née Annika Hansen, now simply Seven, had joined them roughly halfway through during one of many terrifying encounters between Voyager and the Borg. Those years had forged a unique bond between the men and women who had shared them.
Gwyn wasn’t sure she would have sacrificed seven years cut off from the Federation and Starfleet’s resources, braving unknown space and hostile species, in order to join that exclusive club. But she couldn’t deny the power of it, or the fact that it made life and duty harder for those who transferred to Voyager any time after they returned to the Alpha Quadrant.
Patel had been on board since their first refit as Captain Chakotay’s science officer for almost three years before Seven rejoined the crew as a mission specialist, but as soon as the former Borg had returned, she had become Chakotay’s go-to resource the minute things got tricky. Gwyn didn’t believe the captain doubted Devi or her abilities. But Seven was, and always would be, Seven. She was one of the captain’s oldest and closest friends, and she was inarguably brilliant. Neither Devi nor anyone else would ever be able to compete with that, and they shouldn’t try. Like Gwyn, she should just keep her head down and her record clean and look forward to the day when she would find herself aboard a more traditional Starfleet vessel where rank and experience mattered more than personal relationships. No matter how much she, or Patel, or any of the other new faces among the Full Circle Fleet might wish otherwise, they were never going to join the ranks of Voyager’s inner circle and it was “effort after folly,” as Gwyn’s mother used to say, to wish otherwise.
“You’ve got a little less than two years left on this mission, Devi,” Gwyn said. “That’s plenty of time to prove to the captain that you are every bit as brilliant, resourceful, and necessary as Seven.”
Patel studied Gwyn’s face for a long moment. “That’s why you don’t lie,” she finally said. “You’re terrible at it.”
“I really am,” Gwyn acknowledged. “My mother used to know the split second she saw my face. I never even had to say a word.”
The young science officer shifted her gaze to the shuttle’s-eye view of the planet beneath them. From orbit, most of the surface was reddish brown and decidedly inhospitable at first glance.
“What do you think is wrong with Kim?” Patel finally asked.
“Hard to say. But if I had to place latinum on it, I’d bet it has something to do with Lieutenant Conlon’s transfer to Galen.”
“I don’t know. I could never really tell if they were serious about each other.”
Gwyn tossed a dubious glance in Patel’s direction. “No?”
Patel shook her head in response.
“Come to think of it, Devi, you and Aubrey should definitely have dinner. You’re perfect for each other.”
“Why?”
“You’re both absolutely clueless when the subject is anything we weren’t tested on at the Academy.”
After a stunned moment, Patel said, “Should I take your honesty as evidence of how much you respect me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m done talking to you now.”
“For how long?”
“At least until we get back to Voyager.”
“That’s going to be a whole day.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Starting when?”
Patel busied herself making notations on her padd.
“Now?”
Silence.
“Really?”
Longer silence.
Gwyn sighed. Definitely still off my game.
SURFACE, UNNAMED CIRCUMBINARY PLANET
Lieutenant Harry Kim stood waist-deep in fine, grasslike blades that covered the ground as far as the eye could see. The delicate stalks were a fluffy white, and sticky bits were deposited in generous amounts on his black uniform pants everywhere they had touched the alien flora.
The unending field was an illusion. Kim was actually fifty-one kilometers from dead center of a biodome, a spherical energy field constructed by unknown hands and sustained by awfully impressive alien technology. This biodome and forty-six others like it were the only habitable regions on this unnamed planet located in one of many sectors of the Delta Quadrant that used to belong to the Borg.
Despite the extraordinary characteristics of the biodome, Kim had spent the better part of this day studying the construct before him. Almost eight meters tall, and fourteen deep in certain sections, it resembled dozens of discrete interwoven tendrils bursting forth from the ground. Each one varied in length and thickness and there was no pattern to their plaiting. But, like many transcendent sculptural pieces, there was a sense of motion to it, an undulating quality even in its absolute stillness that was mesmerizing.
It was also no longer intact. Some of the “vines” had been broken off haphazardly. There were large chunks missing from others. What might have once been an upper section lay on its side several dozen meters away, all but buried in the white grass.
Neither the dome nor the magnificent sculptural properties of the construct interested Seven in the least. She had come with one goal; to remove samples of what Patel had just identified as a previously unknown element. Now that the heavy lifting was done and Lieutenant Patel had confirmed what Seven had believed to be true since her astrometric sensors had completed deep scans on the unusual planet located just outside the binary system’s habitable zone, K
im should have been more than ready to return to the shuttle.
He wasn’t.
Captain Chakotay was going to be thrilled with their report. Eliciting this reaction from the captain as often as possible was very near the top of Kim’s priorities these days. Chakotay said he had forgiven his security and tactical chief for the lapses in judgment that occurred during their last mission, especially now that the causes of those transgressions were clearly understood.
Kim could not say the same for himself.
Days like this one, filled with purpose and discovery, were the only things standing between Kim and the abyss. He was grateful for it and not at all looking forward to its conclusion or the shuttle journey to rendezvous with Voyager that lay ahead of his team. Gwyn would remain just this side of professional, but only just. She had been the greenest of ensigns when the fleet launched a little over a year ago, and while proving herself time and again to be a fantastic pilot—worthy of filling Tom Paris’s seat at Voyager’s helm—her sense of decorum still needed work.
Patel could be professional to a fault. Sometimes Kim found it hard to believe she wasn’t Vulcan. Her sense of propriety and stoic demeanor, even her fine black hair and severe cut, reminded him of several Vulcan officers with whom Kim had served. Patel was human. She just didn’t seem to want anyone to notice it.
And Seven would be . . . Seven. She would spend her time running calculations and planning experiments to run with her Sevenofninonium. Thanks to Ensign Gwyn, Kim was never going to be able to think of the new element as anything else now, no matter what the Federation officials tasked with naming such discoveries eventually decided to designate it.
Which would leave Kim alone with his thoughts; literally the last place he wanted to be right now.
His musings were interrupted by Seven. “I have completed my final scans, Lieutenant. Shall we signal the shuttle for transport?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to check out any of the other biodomes?” Kim asked, even though he knew what her answer would likely be.
“The odds are extremely low that you and I have seen the last of this world. Captain Chakotay will most certainly wish to investigate further.”
“So that’s a no?” Kim asked, half teasing.
In her early years as part of Voyager’s crew, Seven would have let the comment pass and simply signaled the shuttle. Now, she affixed her tricorder to her belt and said, “We have not, however, taken any visual readings of the edges of this biodome. The nearest one is less than a kilometer south-southeast of this position.”
Kim was oddly touched by her simple gesture. There was no need to visually inspect the edge of the dome. There was little to be learned that their shuttle’s sensors couldn’t tell them. Seven knew that. She was reaching, for his sake. Sometime in the last few years Seven had become a great deal more sensitive to the emotions of her friends and infinitely more patient with them than she had been when she was first reintroduced to her humanity.
“Sounds good,” Kim said.
They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Seven checked her tricorder occasionally to confirm their heading. The configuration of the invisible energy field that was responsible for sustaining this biodome was similar to the others found on the surface. This one was only a little over a hundred kilometers in diameter, comparatively speaking rather small. Contained in most of the domes was a version of a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, a vast array of plants, water sources, and other examples of structures like the one Seven had just identified as partially composed of her new element. The domes also regulated exposure to light and radiation, eradicating the dangers posed when the planet’s rotation was turned toward the binary stars. There were no other life-forms present and no immediate indication of who might have placed the domes here. This was the very definition of the “strange new worlds” Starfleet had been created to discover.
“I would have thought you would be anxious to return to the fleet as soon as possible,” Seven finally said in an obvious attempt to draw him out.
“I don’t expect anything will have changed in the last few days.”
The tall grass had begun to thin out a bit and Seven paused her steps to brush some of the heavy white particles from her black uniform pants.
“While I understand your desire to avoid confrontation, I do not believe it to be a viable long-term strategy,” Seven said.
“I’m not expecting a confrontation when we return.”
Seven lowered her eyes to meet Kim’s. Her newfound patience was clearly beginning to wear thin.
The back of Kim’s neck began to burn intensely. For a few seconds he was incapable of rational thought. After a deep breath, the sensation passed, leaving the lieutenant shaken. “So much for doctor-patient confidentiality,” Kim said.
“I was not advised of Lieutenant Conlon’s condition by Counselor Cambridge,” Seven said. “I was briefed by Doctor Sharak, who did not violate her privacy intentionally. He inquired about several hypothetical uses for my catoms, including their ability to aid in gene regulation and any complications that might occur when an individual is pregnant. I advised him that following my work with the small gestalt created by Doctor Frazier’s people, I intentionally severed my conscious ability to interact with my catoms. Even had Commander Briggs’s experiments not demonstrated the folly of rushing catomic research at this time, I am in no position to attempt to use my catoms as Doctor Sharak requested. Only once our discussion had concluded did I intuit the true nature of his hypothetical inquiries.”
“Fair enough,” Kim said. Seven was one of the brightest people he’d ever known, and he couldn’t fault Sharak for exploiting every possible resource available to cure the degenerative genetic condition now plaguing Nancy Conlon. That Voyager’s CMO was already looking for wildly speculative options like catomic intervention didn’t bode well. “The last time Nancy and I discussed it, she indicated that she did not intend to carry the child to term. She also made it absolutely clear that it was her decision. I don’t get a vote.”
Seven silently held his gaze.
“What?”
“Did you or did you not contribute fifty percent of the child’s genetic material?” Seven asked.
“I did.”
“And I assume you did not force this material on Lieutenant Conlon against her will.”
“Of course not.”
“The child in question is then yours as much as it is hers, is it not?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“But because you are not required to carry it within your body while it gestates you have no rights where it is concerned?”
“Something like that.”
“That is absurd.”
Kim paused, wondering if it was possible that Seven could be more frustrated by Nancy’s choice than he was. He doubted it, but he had rarely seen her take a position this strong on a subject that did not impact her directly.
“It’s complicated, Seven.”
“Do you want the child?” she persisted.
Kim sighed. Suddenly, being left alone to his thoughts in the shuttle seemed infinitely preferable to continuing this conversation.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I just know what I want isn’t going to matter.”
Seven considered him for a few moments before resuming their course toward the edge of the biodome. Upon reaching the top of a gentle incline, it came into view: a disorienting sight.
The grass gave way to reddish-brown dirt, punctuated here and there by small clumps of indigo weeds. The soil came to an abrupt end at an invisible barrier whose curve was impossible to see this close. Beyond that barrier a hellish, uneven, rocky red plain extended as far as Kim could see. On this side of the energy field, he and Seven could stand until they grew old in a breathable atmosphere. Should the field fail now, they would be burnt to a crisp in seconds by the intense radiation kicked off by the twin stars this lonely planet orbited.
For the first time since
they had arrived, anxiety not directly related to the mess his personal life had become threatened to overwhelm Kim. He knew, based on the age of the construct and the scans of the planet, that this biodome had stood continuously for thousands of years. There was no reason to believe it was going to cease functioning simply because at this moment he was imagining the potential consequences of such a failure.
But Kim couldn’t shake the thought. His breath grew shallow.
Seven stepped closer to the field and extended her hand.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, halting her in her tracks.
“The field does not emit an electromagnetic charge. It is safe to make physical contact.”
“You don’t know that,” Kim insisted, his voice rising. “Maybe it only remains stable as long as no one touches it.”
“Unlikely.”
“But you can’t know for sure.”
“Lieutenant Kim . . .”
“Stop it, Seven.”
Seven lowered her hand.
“Calm yourself, Lieutenant.”
Kim involuntarily released an erratic breath.
Seven returned to his side and studied him with concern. “What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid,” Kim replied. “I’m just not comfortable with the thought that in a fraction of a second our lives could end.”
“One day they will. Given our choice of professions, the odds that our lives will end abruptly and under violent circumstances are increased exponentially. You know this and have never before expressed undue anxiety at the prospect.”
Kim stared at her, unable to form a coherent response.
“I know,” Seven said gently. “It’s complicated.”
Kim stepped back and turned away from the edge of the biodome. Staring out at the calm sea of pale grass before him restored his sense of equilibrium.
Seven reached his side and placed her hand on his shoulder. They stood like that for several moments before Seven activated her combadge and requested transport back to the shuttle.
Architects of Infinity Page 2
