by Star Trek
The first thing to strike her was the sudden comparative stillness and silence of the moment. She now had a clear vision of the creatures who had been buffeting her about the floor as they cleared a space around her, revealing the rest of the room to her sight and further illuminating it by the glow of their bodies, which seemed to pulse with light.
She knew instantly that these were the Monorhans. The structure and translucent glow of their bodies were similar to that of the creature that had been joined with Tuvok. But the faces that now turned to her with expressions of mingled awe and reverence were unmistakable both in their physical character and in the spirits that spoke to her through their large haunting eyes.
On either side of her, down the sides of the room as far as she could see, hundreds of aliens were wrestling with the creatures. She recognized some of them. There were many she could not place. But the memory of the field of battle Phoebe had shown her and the mass of Nacene who had assumed other forms in order to facilitate their explorations was still vivid in her mind.
The exiles have returned, she thought, but almost as quickly corrected herself when she saw the stasis chambers lining the walls and dozens of alien life-forms forcing their way through the barriers that separated them from the battle.
Or these are the ones who gave up the struggle, she realized.
Neither thought was particularly comforting.
But even as she realized this, she saw at the same time that, like the Monorhans, they had ceased to engage with one another and were turning their attention to her instead.
From the far end of the chamber a familiar voice called, “Captain!”
“Chakotay,” she replied, searching the scene for him and smiling with relief when she saw him pull himself free from the clutches of what looked like a large green spider. When the alien’s eye stalks were directed toward her, it seemed to lose all will to engage Chakotay and stood quite still as her first officer hurried across the room toward her.
From the opposite flank, Seven and Neelix came into view and likewise began to run in her direction.
No one, neither the Nacene nor the Monorhans, seemed inclined to stop them. The all stood still, many openmouthed, staring at Janeway.
At first this was difficult to understand. Then the intensifying heat of the Key clutched firmly in her hands reminded her that, at least for the moment, she was holding the only ace in the room and nothing seemed as important to either side in this conflict as how she was going to play it.
“You’re all right,” Chakotay said on ragged shallow breaths as he reached her.
Janeway nodded, managing a weak smile.
There was still one all important factor in the equation that was missing, and Janeway was impatient for her to show herself.
A large wriggling pile pulled her attention to her left. The spores, she knew in an instant. Lifting her eyes above the wormlike organisms, she saw Phoebe, a mass of writhing black tentacles floating above the spores. Her first reaction to Janeway’s presence was to release several Monorhans who were held in her grasp. Once they were free she gently glided to the floor and slowly lurched toward Janeway and her officers.
“Kathryn,” her voice boomed, echoing throughout the chamber.
At least Phoebe no longer looked or sounded like her sister. In some ways this made what must come next much easier for Janeway.
“You didn’t return to Voyager,” Janeway began, then quipped, “I was starting to worry.”
“Captain, the life-forms we detected…” Chakotay began.
“Don’t worry, Commander,” Janeway halted him. “I think I know everything about this situation I need to for the time being.”
“You will return the Key to its box, Kathryn,” Phoebe said in a tone more commanding than supplicating. “We will not allow it to be used until the rest of the exiles have returned.”
“That was our understanding,” Janeway replied, nodding slightly, but making no move to release the Key, still clutched to her stomach.
“Then why do you hesitate now?” Phoebe demanded.
“It appears this situation is a little more complicated than you described to me,” Janeway replied.
“You refer to the abominations,” Phoebe said.
“And the fact that this array is about to be destroyed,” Janeway added.
The filaments of red light that had been coursing through Phoebe’s undulating form were transmuted to a vivid shade of violet. Something in this change gave Janeway the distinct sensation that Phoebe was attempting to verify what Janeway had said.
A moment later, her suspicion was confirmed. “It cannot be stopped,” Phoebe said with resignation.
“I didn’t think it could,” Janeway replied. “You will allow Commander Chakotay and his team to return unharmed to Voyager,” she said in a tone which clearly indicated that this was a demand, not a request.
There was a pregnant pause as Phoebe appeared to consider her options.
“Of course,” Phoebe finally replied.
Chakotay opened his mouth to protest but didn’t have a chance before Janeway said, “Thank you,” adding, “Commander, if I’m not back on board in five minutes, I’m not coming back. Your orders are to get the ship as far away from the array as possible and resume a course for the Alpha Quadrant.”
Chakotay’s head was pounding. The sudden relief he’d felt when Janeway appeared in the chamber, heightened when she addressed Phoebe in the calm commanding voice that had seen them through situations worse than this, evaporated in a flood of conflicted pressing needs. She had a plan. That much was obvious. But if she was honestly willing to give her life in the execution of it, the biggest part of his heart felt it was his duty to stand by her side while she did it.
“Send Seven and Neelix,” he said quickly. “But let me stay,” he said.
“This isn’t up for discussion, Commander,” Janeway replied. “Assylia activated her ship’s self-destruct mechanism. This entire place will be destroyed in the next six minutes. Tuvok is dead. Tom and Harry are missing. Voyager needs you more than I do right now.”
She was right and he knew it.
But he couldn’t force himself to accept it.
“Now, Chakotay,” Janeway commanded.
There wasn’t time to think of all the things he wanted to say to her. The truth was he had never allowed himself to imagine saying goodbye to her. With an emptiness in his heart that threatened to suffocate him, Chakotay turned to Seven and Neelix and nodded for them to join him in moving quickly toward the exit. The creatures cleared a path, and within seconds the chamber was behind them as they ran as quickly as they could toward the waiting pattern enhancers.
Phoebe moved closer to Janeway, saying, “I have done as you wished. Now put the Key away.”
“Tell me one thing first,” Janeway demanded.
“What is it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the Monorhans?”
There was another pause as Phoebe considered the best way to answer this question. There wasn’t a truthful answer that was going to get her anywhere, but as she tentatively pushed herself into Janeway’s mind, searching for an alternative, she saw all too plainly that there was also no point in lying. The exiled Nacene who were not already here were still en route to the array. By the time they arrived the array would be destroyed, but neither Phoebe nor those already present would use the conduit until their number was complete. That left precious few options but one.
Janeway would have to die aboard the array.
Her death would further destabilize the gateway, but the Key would remain intact to be used in another time and place.
Phoebe was spared the need to explain this to Kathryn as a high-pitched screech filled the chamber. Every head in the room snapped toward the far entrance where the soulless creature, the unknowing one, floated forward, propelled by its ragged, misshapen wings, heading straight for Janeway.
Chakotay’s team had no difficulty reaching the pattern enhanc
ers they had set up near the chamber. Clayton transported them from the array directly onto Voyager’s bridge. Rising from the captain’s chair, B’Elanna rushed forward.
“Chakotay, what happened?” she demanded. “Where’s the captain?”
There was, unfortunately, no time to answer her question.
“Chakotay to transporter room three,” he barked.
“Go ahead Commander,” Clayton replied over the comm.
“Do you have a lock on the captain?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
Finally, some good news.
He debated calling for an emergency transport right that second. But Kathryn had asked for five minutes. If they were his to give, he would.
“Computer,” he called, checking the time on his armrest console. “Begin a four-minute countdown with audible confirmation every sixty seconds, starting now.”
“Countdown enabled,” the computer replied.
Turning to B’Elanna he asked, “What’s our status?”
“All systems are standing by, Commander,” she replied. “Impulse engines are online, shields and inertial dampers at maximum. Our interface with the array’s docking controls is stable. We’ve plotted a course that skirts the edge of the singularity’s event horizon and we’re ready to depart.”
“Excellent,” Chakotay replied. “Seven, you’re on tactical. B’Elanna, take the helm.”
“Aye, sir,” they replied in unison, taking their stations. Chakotay took half a second to appreciate that it was the first truly harmonious moment they’d shared since their mini-collective state had ended.
“Commander,” Neelix said.
“Get down to sickbay, Neelix,” Chakotay ordered. “Tell the Doctor to prepare for casualties. Boarding this godforsaken place was almost a disaster. I don’t expect we’ll have an easy time on the way out either.”
“Yes, sir,” Neelix snapped, heading immediately for the turbolift.
Taking his seat next to the captain’s chair, he opened a comm channel to the entire ship.
“Three minutes remaining,” the computer said.
“This is Commander Chakotay to all hands. We are ready to depart the array. Red alert.”
As the bridge was bathed in the pulsing red glow of the emergency lights, B’Elanna said, “Commander, the tractor net controls that run along the outer edge of the docking bay are still active. We haven’t tried to disable them yet, but I believe we should do so before we attempt to leave.”
“Why would we do that?” Chakotay asked.
“Once we initiate our separation from the docking bay, our link with the array’s systems will disconnect. If the tractor controls should be activated automatically or by anyone else before we clear the bay, we won’t be able to pull free and maintain our exit vector, and once our link is terminated we won’t have any control over the tractor system.”
Chakotay weighed the pros and cons. Since the entire array was going to be dust in a matter of moments, he didn’t think it mattered one way or the other.
“Can we target them from here?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Seven replied. “Their coordinates are locked in and phasers are ready.”
Chakotay was about to order Seven to fire when the most unexpected of voices cut softly through the tension enveloping the bridge.
“That would be most unwise, Commander,” Tuvok said, emerging from the turbolift.
Chakotay’s head snapped toward him, along with the head of every other bridge crewman present.
“Tuvok,” he whispered, then spoke up, saying, “the captain said you were dead.”
“She had good reason to believe I would be the last time we spoke,” the Vulcan replied with characteristic restraint. “But as you can see, she was mistaken.”
“Are you fit to return to duty?” Chakotay asked.
“I would not be here were I otherwise,” Tuvok replied.
Chakotay shook his head, a faint smile crossing his lips. He and Tuvok had never been the best of friends, but at this moment he was struck by how much he’d missed him over the past few days.
“Take your station,” Chakotay said. “Seven, replace Collins at ops.”
“Two minutes remaining,” the computer reported.
Seven complied as Chakotay continued, “So why shouldn’t we destroy the tractor net controls now?”
“Because if we do so, we will not be able to safely leave the array,” Tuvok replied. “The tractor net functions as a guidance system, shepherding vessels along the singularity’s event horizon. Our navigational systems are not sophisticated enough to calculate the required course adjustments, nor could the most skilled pilot successfully plot the appropriate course. It is one of many safety features created for this array and will activate automatically when we cross the docking bay’s threshold.”
Chakotay thought back to his conversation with Assylia and her conviction that the creatures had brought Voyager safely on board.
“How do you know that?” Chakotay asked.
“It is one of many things I learned from the life-forms who first brought me to the array,” Tuvok replied without a hint of remorse.
“Did they tell you that they were responsible for our safe arrival?” Chakotay asked.
“Yes, Commander,” Tuvok replied. “Assylia briefly disrupted the automated system when Voyager approached the array. They were able to counter her efforts only moments before the ship’s imminent destruction.”
“I hope you thanked them for us, Tuvok,” Chakotay replied, resuming his seat.
“I did, Commander,” Tuvok replied.
“Transporter room to the bridge,” Clayton’s voice announced.
“Go ahead, Ensign,” Chakotay replied.
“Commander, there is a highly localized subspace dissonance field forming in section fifty-seven epsilon of the array’s second ring,” she informed him.
Kathryn, Chakotay thought silently.
“Does it pose any danger to the captain?” Chakotay asked.
“I don’t know, sir,” Clayton replied. “But it is effectively jamming the captain’s signal. I can’t keep a stable lock.”
Chakotay considered his few options.
Much as every cell in his body demanded that he find a way to return to the array, he knew that Kathryn would never forgive him if he did so.
“One minute remaining,” came the computer’s maddeningly calm voice.
Closing his eyes, Chakotay forced himself to take a deep, measured breath. Kathryn’s face and last words rose unbidden to his mind.
Voyager needs you more than I do right now.
He knew what he had to do.
Acceptance and peace with this choice would have to come later.
“Lieutenant Torres,” he said softly, “release the docking clamps and go to stationkeeping.”
“Aye, sir,” B’Elanna replied.
A heavy metallic clank assured him that they were one step closer to putting this debacle behind them.
But at what cost?
“We are clear of the docking clamps and have terminated our interface with the array’s systems,” B’Elanna announced. “The bay forcefield is down and we are ready to depart on your order, sir.”
The ship rattled, and bucked. At first Chakotay assumed that they were having difficulty maintaining their position within the bay.
That changed when the bridge was plunged into sudden darkness.
What the…? Janeway thought as the horrific creature unfurled its arms and shot toward her.
She sensed the confused flutter of activity among the others, but none came immediately to her aid.
This isn’t good.
Phoebe spent an entire half-second debating within herself as to whether or not she should intercept the creature and temporarily save Janeway’s life. Phoebe knew that the presence of the Monorhans had irreparably damaged the fragile peace she had made with the captain. Janeway hadn’t come to the array with the intention of honoring her agr
eement with Phoebe.
No. The captain had made her choice.
It was so predictable as to be nauseating.
She was going to try and help the abominations. She either did not know or did not care that that course would certainly lead to her own death when she became the conduit. Nor did she weigh this more heavily than the reaction of the Others in Exosia, who would only be able to see Janeway’s actions as a declaration of war.
Which meant that Phoebe also had a choice to make. The unknowing one was acting on instinct. It sensed the unclean blood of the lesser being in its path and yearned to purify it with the gift of the newly generated spore resting in its belly. It was acting on a primal Nacene drive which tied it more closely to the Others than to Phoebe or the exiles, an ignorance rooted in their unwillingness to interact with the life-forms beyond Exosia. Had its transformed body been tempered by a consciousness, it would have understood, as the rest of the transformed Monorhans did, that the spore wriggling within it and yearning for release was not meant for a lesser being. It would have sensed the Key and the promise it held as it poured its light into the chamber, waiting for Janeway to press it into its lock. But the unknowing one could act only on its most basic drives. It would infect the captain and she would begin the transformation. Within hours, if such time existed, another abomination would be born.
But once the spore was implanted in the captain’s body, the Key would sense her oneness, her newly born Nacene-ness, and would disconnect itself from her will.
No Nacene could actually “own” the Key, because no Nacene could become the conduit and use the conduit at the same time. The fatal flaw in the Light’s grand plan had been to tie the Key’s activation to a lesser being, a flaw Phoebe and the other exiles had attempted to compensate for by gently suggesting a mythological origin to the ancient Monorhans which included godlike beings that had created and cared for them. It was not exactly a lie. And as the Monorhan belief system had evolved to include a rudimentary understanding of the Key and Gremadia, Phoebe had rested content in the certainty that whenever she and the exiles chose to use the Key, any number of Monorhans would willing have sacrificed themselves to make this happen. After all, it would have been the will of their Blessed All-Knowing Light.
