“Do we know what that code is?” Janeway asked.
Torres nodded. “Hax.”
“What’s a hax?” Janeway asked.
“Nothing as far as we know,” Conlon replied. “There are no matches in the database. It could be a proper name or simply a code word.”
“As soon as we found the program, we isolated it, and extracted it,” Kim reported. “It no longer poses any threat to us.”
“Who created it?” Janeway asked.
“It appears that the virus did. It gathered the data it required, slowly, over time, built the program, and left it for us like a ticking time bomb,” Conlon said.
“If it completed its work, why did it move on to the holographic systems?” Barclay asked.
Torres shrugged. “As it stands, the program was capable of controlling every system apart from our holograms. That might have been its last target, but it never successfully acquired all the data it needed. Its contact with our holograms might have damaged it too greatly for it to continue to function.”
“But why would it need our holograms?” Barclay asked.
“Lsia might,” Chakotay said, as if it should have been obvious. “She understands better than most the capabilities of our holograms. They are the perfect host for the Seriareen. They never die. They can take any form they wish. She must have intended to bring the rest of The Eight back here so she could transfer them into holograms like herself.”
“That would never have worked,” Barclay noted. “Meegan’s holographic matrix was unique. Even the Doctor’s probably wouldn’t have survived an attempt to integrate an outside consciousness. Meegan was a perfect candidate, given the amount of empty space in her buffer meant to support a developing sentience. No other hologram would have been a viable candidate, nor would they have been able to exist outside our holodecks without mobile emitters.”
“She couldn’t have known that when she stole our shuttle and ran,” Chakotay said. “Is it possible that this virus might have been one of Lsia’s companions?”
“Aren’t they all accounted for?” Kim asked.
“If we’re taking her word for it,” Chakotay replied, “but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t see how it could be,” Torres said. “I’m still amazed Lsia was able to survive within a holographic matrix, but Meegan’s design was unique. Our bioneural systems mimic organic processes in some ways, but they aren’t complex enough to support a consciousness. And it would have had to leave those gel packs and move through our power systems before relocating into Voyager’s bioneural systems. I’m not an expert on the Seriareen, but I don’t see an individual consciousness surviving that process with enough of itself left intact to create that program.”
“But a virus could?” Janeway asked dubiously.
“Yes,” Torres assured her. “It had to be simple enough to survive, probably in some dormant state, until it was transferred to Voyager. That’s when it really began its work. We have the results. We know it did happen, even if we don’t know exactly how.”
“Either way, it’s gone now,” Conlon reminded them. “We’ve scanned every system, multiple times. There’s no place left for it to hide.”
“Does this program bear any resemblance to the one Admiral Batiste created to take control of our systems?” Chakotay asked.
“Yes,” B’Elanna replied. “It’s more complicated, but it’s not hard to imagine that Lsia built on what she learned from him.”
“We were never sure how closely they were working together,” Chakotay said. “I guess now we know.”
“We do,” Janeway agreed. “This is excellent work. We could have been in serious trouble at a most inopportune moment. You are all to be commended. I don’t think it’s likely that this virus could have found its way to Vesta, but Galen should be checked before we enter the wastes and begin our search for Seriar.”
“Do you still think that’s wise, Admiral?” Chakotay asked.
Janeway looked to him, but did not immediately respond. “Doctor, I received Commander Glenn’s latest report on her analysis of Tirrit and Adaeze. Do you agree with her findings?”
Once again, the Doctor’s focus was pulled back to the briefing. “Her findings?”
“She is convinced that it would be impossible to separate the Seriareen from their current hosts,” Janeway said.
“Yes,” the Doctor agreed. “As it stands, there is no way to segregate the alien consciousness from the host. Should they depart of their own accord, we could certainly try to revive the hosts, but we can’t force them apart.”
“What about those words Lsia indicated were meant to sever the connection in the event the host was unstable?” Chakotay asked.
“Even if we knew all of them, we still might lose the hosts. The more troubling question is where would the Seriareen go once released?” the Doctor asked.
“Commander Glenn and her chief engineer, Lieutenant Benoit, have created new containment canisters, like the ones the Neyser used. Obviously, we can’t test them, but we have them standing by,” Janeway reported.
“I would suggest we place them inside the holding cells currently housing the prisoners,” Chakotay said. “Just in case.”
“Agreed,” Janeway said. “In fact, I want Tirrit and Adaeze aboard Voyager before we enter the wastes. Our brig is more secure than the temporary holding cells we created on the Galen. I’d bring Emem here as well if I didn’t think General Mattings would take it as an insult.”
“I don’t mind risking that,” Chakotay noted.
“For now, it’s not worth it,” Janeway countered.
Chakotay reported that they were on course to arrive at the border to the wastes within the hour. The Doctor rose from his seat as soon as they were dismissed and hurried out the door.
• • • • •
The Doctor had just reached the turbolift when Counselor Cambridge tapped his shoulder.
“Where were you just now?” the counselor asked.
“The briefing,” the Doctor replied, stepping into the lift.
Cambridge followed quickly and raised an apologetic hand to Kim and Conlon before they could step inside. He then ordered the lift to deck five. As soon as the doors closed, the counselor said, “No, I was at the briefing. You were somewhere else.”
“Counselor, recent alterations to my program notwithstanding, I am more than capable of giving adequate focus to a number of issues simultaneously. If you like, I could repeat for you verbatim every word spoken at the briefing. I could alter my vocal subroutines to imitate the speakers to heighten the realism of the presentation. Nothing said during the meeting apart from Admiral Janeway’s direct questions about my work with Commander Glenn was relevant to me or my duties.”
The lift reached deck five and the Doctor set a quick pace as he exited. Cambridge followed, undeterred.
“You understand why we hold these briefings, don’t you, Doctor?” he asked.
“Even for you, that’s an asinine question,” the Doctor retorted.
Ignoring the insult, Cambridge said, “Whether the subject under discussion directly intersects with your current duties or not, your participation is requested when it is believed you might have something to add that would not have occurred to any of the other senior officers.”
“You think I don’t know that? I’ve served as a senior officer longer than you’ve been on a starship,” the Doctor said sharply.
“If you know it, why did you fail to give the briefing your full attention?” Cambridge pressed. When the Doctor didn’t immediately respond, Cambridge added more gently, “Did I return you to duty prematurely?”
“Is that a threat?”
Cambridge shook his head. “It’s an honest question. You’ve been through a great deal in the last several days, and while I am as anxious as any to see you once again contribute, if you require more time to process your new status quo, you should take it.”
“I have done everything you asked of
me,” the Doctor said, his voice rising. “I have answered every question you asked, I have tried to accept my new limitations, and I have engaged in your proscribed rest periods.”
“How’s that going?” Cambridge asked.
“Very well. Commander Glenn assisted me earlier today, guiding me through a simple meditation. It was quite rejuvenating.”
Cambridge seemed surprised at this. “Really?”
“Really.”
After a short pause, Cambridge said, “You understand, my only concern is for your well-being.”
“I do. Do you understand that good intentions are no substitute for experience? You and I have not served together long. Our recent discussions, while helpful, have not been sufficient for you to pretend to grasp all there is to know of me. You have raised some valid points, and your suggestion that I try to rest my program has been surprisingly effective. But you are no more perfect than I am. Sometimes your observations may simply be wrong.”
A faint smile passed over the counselor’s lips. “Wrong?”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“Would you care to share a specific example, beyond my apparent overreaction to your demeanor during the briefing?”
“Certainly. You are wrong about Seven.”
This took the counselor aback, and he paused to digest the accusation while crossing his arms at his chest.
“How so?”
“You have decided that her former attachment to Axum will outweigh all other considerations, including her affection for you, and that she will choose to remain with him rather than return to the fleet.”
“He was her first love,” Cambridge said bitterly. “Her physical cues when speaking of him are incredibly powerful. They were divided by circumstance. Fate has remedied that. Even setting her sense of obligation to him aside, I would be amazed if she did not find the prospect of exploring the potential of their relationship in the real world both irresistible and temporarily satisfying.”
“He was Annika’s first love,” the Doctor corrected him. “Seven is not Annika. Seven has become an entirely new person in the years since she met with Axum in Unimatrix Zero. She has experienced realities that go so far beyond the mundane as to defy description. Annika never existed beyond the few years of life she lived before assimilation. The version of her that Axum knew has not existed for years. Seven’s rejection of the Caeliar is the surest indication that her past no long defines her future possibilities. And against all logic, reason, and evidence of taste, Seven chose you. She shared with you something she had withheld from many a better man. Her choice to go to Axum’s aid had nothing to do with you. Your choice since then to assume the worst of her merely indicates your deep-seated insecurities and inability to grasp exactly what you’ve been fortunate enough to find with Seven. You are as surprised as I am by her choice in romantic partners. I would suggest you reconsider, because she will return. And when she does, you had best be prepared to answer for your lack of faith.”
The counselor was, for once, speechless. The Doctor added, “Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
• • • • •
Captain Chakotay remained seated as the briefing room cleared. Admiral Janeway waited until the room was empty before moving to sit beside him. It was ridiculous to feel as if he was speaking to her for the first time, but Chakotay found himself framing his thoughts as carefully as if that were the case.
“Assuming B’Elanna is right, and that Lsia intentionally sent an advanced virus to Voyager to study our systems and plant that file, we are now, officially, at a disadvantage.”
“How so? We found the program before she could activate it. I’d say we’re ahead of whatever game she thinks she’s playing,” Janeway observed.
“We have assumed, until now, that she was surprised to find us negotiating with the Confederacy.” Chakotay went on. “Her first move was to attempt to sever any potential alliance between us and them by using that tribunal to cast aspersions on you and the Federation. Had she succeeded, we would have been taken off the board, and she would have been free to try and convince or force the Confederacy to explore these wastes in search of Seriar.”
“Yes.”
“But this casts doubt on those assumptions,” Chakotay stated. “If she always hoped to return to Voyager and utilize that program, why would she have risked losing that opportunity by almost destroying our ship and then trying to humiliate us in front of the Confederacy?”
“Like any skilled tactician, she probably set many contingencies in place initially,” Janeway suggested. “She might have feared that Voyager would begin to search for her, as you would have, had the fleet’s encounter with the Children of the Storm gone differently, or had the Omega Continuum not been an issue. Had you found her before she could cement the alliances she required to face the Confederacy, having access to our primary systems would have come in handy.”
“Don’t you think she took your victory over her a little too well?” Chakotay asked.
“She’s not an idiot. She’s lived we don’t know how many lifetimes. Defiance was no longer an option. She might not have expected our willingness to assist her. She’s learning more about us at the same time we’re learning more about her.”
“Do you honestly believe we’re going to find a planet in the middle of those wastes that has eluded detection by the Confederacy for five hundred years?”
“I don’t know what we’re going to find out there,” Janeway replied. “I know that whatever it is, it’s valuable enough to her to warrant extreme measures. I also know that if we don’t take this opportunity to find it, the Confederacy will.”
“Presider Cin would have been happy to let the matter drop,” Chakotay reminded her.
“General Mattings wouldn’t,” Janeway insisted. “He strikes me as a man who doesn’t like unanswered questions. There is nothing to prevent him leading a force out here to explore the area. And given all the presider is facing politically, she might not have the time or the political capital to deny his request. If Mattings made a case for the potential value of any discovery out here to the Market Consortium, they could do whatever they wish, even over Cin’s objections.”
“It’s their space, Kathryn,” Chakotay said. “Whatever is out here belongs to them and ultimately, they will have to decide what to do with it.”
“Agreed. But Lsia and her people could aid them in understanding what they find. We’re simply facilitating that and hopefully eliminating what could become a flashpoint for future conflict.”
“And risking our ships and our crews in the process.”
Janeway bowed her head. “Nothing we do out here comes without risk.”
“That’s true, but when we risk, it needs to be for good reason. I hate to sound callous, but what’s in it for us?”
“Maybe nothing,” Janeway said. “Aren’t you curious?”
“Definitely. I’m also afraid that we are underestimating her. I’m afraid that she’s thought this through twenty moves out, and no matter how good we are, we aren’t going to be able to find every trap she’s set for us.”
“As long as she and the others remain behind the anti-psionic field, they cannot threaten us.”
“We could suffer power losses. Those fields could fall. Hell, if the ship were somehow destroyed, she and the others could simply abandon their current hosts and find the next nearest living beings to possess.”
“Chakotay, you may be right. But I will not lead this fleet guided by my fears. Fear is helpful when it leads us to act mindfully. But if we’re going to let it run the show, we should go home now.”
Chakotay considered this. “I don’t understand why I can’t shake it off anymore.”
Janeway placed a hand over his. “For the first time in our lives, we want more than to survive the day. Somewhere out there in the as-yet-undefined future is a dream we both share of a life beyond answering to duty. There’s nothing stopping us from letting all of this go and
stepping into that future. But as long as we’re here, this has to be the only moment that matters. Living for that future will damn us as surely as retreating into our past.”
Chakotay smiled. “That’s what I had to learn when I lost you. How is it possible I forgot that lesson the moment you came back to me?”
“Apparently I’m a terrible influence on you,” Janeway teased.
Turning his palm, Chakotay twined his fingers around hers, and he lifted her hand to his lips. “That must be it.”
“I’m not in a hurry to leave this life,” Janeway said. “And I don’t want to see any of our people suffer for our command decisions. But I think we’ve proven that together, we’re reasonably formidable.”
“Together, then?” Chakotay asked.
“Always,” Janeway replied.
18
PALAIS DE LA CONCORDE
PARIS, EARTH
Doctor Sharak had followed his orders. He had returned to his temporary quarters in San Francisco immediately following his conversation with Commander Paris and Lieutenant Wildman. From there, he had spoken for several hours with Ratham and Ambassador Jarral. The ambassador had transmitted the appropriate requests through his diplomatic channels, and in the middle of the night, local time, first thing in the morning in Paris, Sharak had transported there and entered the Palais, certain that, within hours, he would be granted a few minutes of President Bacco’s time.
He had been right about the wait. Six hours later he had been politely refused an appointment and been assured that the president would make time to meet with Ambassador Jarral as soon as her schedule permitted. Sharak hadn’t been deterred. He had spoken to three undersecretaries, including one with direct access to the president’s chief of staff, before it had been suggested that if he did not leave the premises, he would be escorted out.
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