“They’ll hear us?”
Kim nodded.
“Harry, are you sure you can do this right now?”
Kim’s eyes locked with his captain’s. “I apologize for my outburst, sir.”
Janeway had no idea what “outburst” Kim was referring to, but figured the explanation would figure prominently in Chakotay’s report, should they all live that long.
Chakotay studied Kim. “Apology accepted. Do it.”
Kim moved quickly to the ops station, and Waters stepped aside to allow him access. As he began to work, Janeway said, “We might be able to create a firing solution using photon torpedoes targeted to avoid any of the subspace instabilities.”
“Aubrey,” Chakotay ordered, “see if it’s possible.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Any detonation large enough to destroy the Source would take us with it,” Mattings advised.
“If the choice is sacrificing ourselves to keep this creature from carving its way through inhabited systems, I can accept that,” Janeway replied coldly.
“The Source would never hurt us, Admiral,” Mattings argued.
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.”
Finally, several familiar shapes emerged from a nearby instability and moved toward Voyager. The ancient protectors had arrived.
“Good work, Harry. What are you telling them?” Chakotay asked.
“I’m trying to make them understand the danger the hax poses to us. I’m asking them to contain it.”
“You mean destroy it?” Mattings asked.
“If that’s the only way,” Kim replied.
“No, son,” Mattings said, stepping toward the ops station and looking up at Kim. “You can’t.”
“General,” Chakotay said, “do not give orders to my crew.”
“It’s not an order, Captain. It’s a request. The Source is ours. You have no right to destroy it.”
“It’s a fascinating life-form, but it’s also an immediate threat to this ship and the galaxy,” Chakotay said.
The protectors Kim had summoned began to merge and expand in size. As they did so, they began to move toward the hax, clearly ready to act against it.
“There has to be another way,” Mattings exclaimed. “With all you people have learned in your travels, you expect me to believe that the best you can do is just kill it?”
“No, no, no,” Kim said suddenly.
The forward motion of the protectors had ceased, and they were beginning to separate.
“What’s the problem, Lieutenant?” Chakotay demanded.
Before Kim could answer, the hax let out another shriek and moved toward the ancient protectors, weaving in and out through them.
Kim was clearly struggling to interpret the data he was receiving. “They won’t harm the hax,” Kim finally replied.
“Make them understand what will happen to us if they don’t,” Chakotay ordered.
Kim transmitted another message. This time, in response, one of the ancient ones broke off from the group and began to move swiftly back toward Voyager.
“Aubrey, prepare countermeasures,” Chakotay ordered. “Disperse it.”
“Wait,” Kim said. “It’s transmitting a response.”
“Well?”
“They believe we have been corrupted by our exposure to their creators,” Kim reported, aghast. “Otherwise, we would never ask this of them.”
“The Confederacy did what they did for material gain,” Chakotay said. “We’re trying to survive.”
“I’m afraid they don’t see the distinction, Captain,” Kim said.
“Can they at least protect us from the creature?” Janeway asked.
“I’ll ask,” Kim replied.
Moments later, the nearest protector again altered course and rejoined the others. Gwyn was slowly but surely putting more distance between the ship and the hax, but not enough to make anyone on the bridge feel safe.
“I guess we’ll take that as a ‘no,’ ” Chakotay said.
“They didn’t say ‘no,’ Captain,” Kim reported. “They said we did not require their protection.”
Suddenly, the three smaller creatures that had been moving erratically near the head of the Obihhax broke off and began to move decisively toward Voyager.
“I think they were wrong,” Janeway noted.
“Aubrey, do you have a firing solution for our torpedoes?” Chakotay asked.
“Can I ask them something?” General Mattings requested. “Can I ask the Source something through the ancient ones?”
Chakotay turned to Janeway. “At this point, can it hurt?” she said.
“Go ahead, General,” Chakotay replied.
Mattings was momentarily overcome with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to praying, let alone in public.”
“Whatever you plan to say, General, make it quick,” Janeway insisted.
Stepping closer to Kim and leaning over his console to speak softly, Mattings began, “I know what you are. I know what you’ve done for my people. I know that your plans for us are greater than any one moment in time can contain. Not for myself, but for those who have come to know and trust in you, I ask your mercy. I ask you to continue to guide us, to watch over us, and, as you see fit, to reveal yourself to us. Please, do not abandon us. We are a better people, thanks to you.”
Silence fell heavy over the bridge. Given the fact that the protectors did not speak in words, but in images, Janeway wondered how Kim had translated the general’s message.
As the hax began to move, she stopped wondering.
Its writhing stilled. Turning its head again toward the ship, it lurched forward, covering more space in a single motion than it had until now. As it surged, its mouth opened wider.
“Source, no,” Mattings said softly.
“Gwyn, evasive maneuvers,” Chakotay ordered.
The Obihhax continued forward until it reached the three small hax it had just released. Their forward momentum ebbed, and they were suddenly sucked back toward the open mouth of the Obihhax. With a violent screech, the Obihhax brought its mouth closed around them, swallowing them whole in one bite.
It then lifted its head gracefully and reversed its direction, heading toward roughly the same point it had occupied when it had first been discovered.
The ancient protectors Kim had called had begun to expand again, this time joining with many of the other wave forms native to the area.
Finally, the hax’s motion took a new shape.
Or rather, an old one.
Its body turned back on itself, the head moving with heretofore unseen speed. It took hold of its own tail, sucking it into its mouth, and once again began to spin in a perfect circle.
Mattings lifted his head. Tears streamed down his face.
“It seems your prayer was answered,” Janeway said.
“Or maybe he didn’t like the other Seriareen,” Mattings offered.
“Now that you know what it is, an ancient alien consciousness combined with an unusual life-form, are you still content to follow it?” Janeway asked.
“Thanks to your willingness to prevent the Seriareen from taking it from us, my people will have all the time we need to make that choice.”
“You have our gratitude as well, General,” Janeway said.
Mattings shook his head. “The Source chose to spare us. Our philosophers and clerics will argue for years to come about why and what it meant.”
“Or you could just ask it,” Kim suggested. “I don’t think the ancient protectors are going anywhere.”
Mattings lowered his head. “I wouldn’t presume.”
24
STARFLEET MEDICAL, CLASSIFIED DIVISION
As Seven moved through the halls Commander Briggs had sullied, she tried not to meet the curious eyes of the officers who were now in the process of being rounded up by the security team Admiral Akaar had dispatched. All of them would surely argue, when the time came, that they had no knowle
dge of the Commander’s activities or true intentions. In most cases, it would likely be the truth.
Seven could not pity them. History was filled with examples of charismatic leaders who led multitudes down the wrong path by the force of their will and repeated reminders of the justness of their cause. Starfleet officers were trained to follow orders and to trust the judgment of their superiors. But they were not required to check their consciences at the door when they left their quarters. The worst of the offenses Briggs had perpetrated here were his unethical experiments, and those he had performed secretly, with the help of his Planarians. But it shouldn’t have taken Seven or Sharak or Commander Paris to uncover the truth. Anyone could have asked the questions they did and followed them to their logical conclusion.
That these people hadn’t was troubling. Was it human nature to follow where the strongest personalities led? Were Voyager’s officers unique, given that their duty had required them to blaze trails rather than walk well-worn paths?
Seven did not know. But it was a question she intended to put to Admiral Akaar, and she fervently hoped he would invest the necessary time and resources required to find the answer.
As soon as she reached the stasis chambers, Seven set these thoughts aside and focused her efforts on reviving Riley and Axum. Riley came to first and embraced Seven warmly as soon as she was roused.
It took Axum a long time to open his eyes. Seven had refrained from reaching out to him through their catoms. She knew part of him would resist leaving the safety and power of his gestalt behind. But she also knew that what they had shared while unconscious could easily be re-created when he woke.
She was counting on it.
Waiting beside his chamber, Seven studied his face. The violence of Axum’s past was carved in deep ruts that ran across it. Fine white hair grew in spurts from his scalp, but did not conceal the scar tissue where his left ear should have been. Seven noted that his left hand was missing every finger but the thumb. Still, these surface traumas were nothing compared to those that had mangled his mind and spirit.
When his eyes finally opened, Seven forced a smile. The moment their eyes met, tears began to glisten in Axum’s, and he turned away, clearly self-conscious.
Seven lifted her right hand to touch his face. He flinched, pulling away, then turned back to look at her, ashamed.
“Resistance is futile,” she teased softly.
He rose up on his elbows and brought his legs down over the lowered side of the stasis chamber. He dared not risk standing so soon, but at least this way, they could meet each other on a more or less equal plane.
Finally, Axum lifted his hands and extended them toward her, palms up. Seven mirrored the gesture. Their fingers touched, the heels of their palms met, and their fingers intertwined.
Releasing one hand, Seven lifted hers to his left cheek, brushing her thumb over it in a gentle caress. Axum placed his over hers in response. They remained like that in silence for several moments, content to slowly take in the feeling of each other’s touch.
For the first time.
TAMARIAN EMBASSY
Three days later, Axum and Riley arrived at the Tamarian Embassy. They had been transported from the lab directly to Starfleet’s main hospital facility to recuperate from their time in stasis and begin to restore their muscle strength. Both responded more quickly to therapy than anticipated. Both were attended during their stay by President Bacco’s personal physician.
Seven used that time to work with the rest of the former residents of Arehaz. They heard from her lips the entire story of the catomic plague; its accidental birth and the path of devastation it had left in its wake. Most had given their permission to allow Seven to link with them through their shared catoms and through that link they had come to know more about the catoms that were unique to them. They had agreed that the plague, while not their doing, was their responsibility to eliminate.
Those who resisted were reminded—not by Seven, but by their peers—of the debt they all owed Voyager’s crew. Three times the former Borg had been close to annihilation, and three times the crew of the intrepid vessel had come to their aid.
Finally, all chose to answer Seven’s call to perform a duty for which they were uniquely qualified.
When Riley and Axum arrived, they assembled in the large embassy ballroom. The children had spent most of their days outside, running wild over the embassy grounds under the watchful eyes of Julia Paris, Ratham, and the Tamarian staff who had grown quite fond of them. As they played, all of the former Borg who had chosen not to join the Caeliar gestalt seated themselves in a large circle and willingly entered their own.
As Seven had suspected, the power of the joined state mirrored that she had shared with Axum and Riley but was expanded by several orders of magnitude.
Together, the small gestalt focused its attention on the catoms of the original samples Briggs had removed from the drone he had killed midtransformation. The errors and mutations were obvious and were immediately corrected. From there, the gestalt expanded its consciousness to the wider galaxy, searching for particles that matched the mutated viral catoms. As they were discovered, they were repaired. The virus was destroyed, and the catoms reverted to a neutral, harmless state.
Once all had been found and neutralized, they were collected, drawn forth from planets thousands of light-years distant and sample containers that had been removed and secured from Briggs’s lab. Through the will of the gestalt, these catomic particles were redistributed among the existing members and absorbed. They were added to those already present and upon acceptance were seamlessly integrated into their bodies.
Despite their relative lack of experience, Riley’s people adapted quickly to working again as one. They naturally looked to Riley for guidance, but did not require much. Axum and Seven focused their efforts on maintaining the stability of the gestalt as the others explored and reveled in a new kind of collective existence.
It seemed like moments, but had been more than twelve hours when the work of the gestalt was complete. Silence reigned among them briefly, then threatened to expand into eternity. All now understood both the scope and limits of their joined state, and while momentary curiosity flamed briefly here and there—along with gratitude, wonder, and an overwhelming sense of peace—the next step was painfully obvious.
Nocks was the first to separate himself from the others. The moment he began to reassert his individuality, Axum spoke.
“Wait.”
“No.”
“It is not necessary . . .”
But Nocks was already gone.
Jilliant followed, and with each departure, Axum poured more of himself into the gestalt, filling it with wonders untasted and realms unexplored.
Had Seven not prepared all assembled for this moment, it might have gone differently.
Each departure felt like a gaping wound being ripped open in the fabric of their communion. When politeness and temptation failed, Axum attempted to hold those that remained by force.
Seven and Riley countered Axum’s will, releasing the others with gratitude until only Axum/Seven/Riley remained.
“Why did you let them go?” Axum cried out, agonized.
“You know why,” Riley responded.
“How can one know this power and willingly refuse it?”
“It comes with a price, Axum,” Seven reminded him. “Those of us who have begun to understand the value of our individuality are as unwilling to part with it as we were when the Caeliar first asked.”
“But we are one,” Axum countered. “Our individuality is an illusion. Our catoms were designed to exist in a joined state. What we have accomplished here is but a fraction of what we could learn together through our new gestalt.”
“You are right,” Riley agreed. “But we choose to learn in a different way now. This state, while familiar and even comforting, is also an illusion. We are not Caeliar. That is the gift they gave us, the choice we made. I am Riley Frazier.”
&nb
sp; With that, Riley departed, leaving Axum/Seven alone.
“You knew,” Axum accused.
“I did more than that. I taught them how to resist you before we began.”
“You did not trust me to honor their wishes?”
“I did not believe you would be able to overcome your fear of solitude once our work was complete.”
“You used me, just as the Borg used us.”
“I never agreed to maintain the gestalt indefinitely. None of us did. You assumed that once the others joined, they would have no desire to depart. You were wrong.”
“Only because you frightened them.”
“No, Axum. You did. You cannot hide your need from us. We understand it, but we do not share it.”
“They will return,” Axum said. “As individuals they are small and weak. Together, we are so much more.”
“Now who sounds like the Borg?” Seven asked.
“You will see.”
“No, I will not.”
“You cannot deny the truth of what we are.”
“What we are is ours to decide. The greatest gift you gave me, Axum, was not the experience of conjoined power. It was the ability to control my own catoms, to determine my own destiny, and to choose for myself how best to use that which the Caeliar left me.”
Seven tasted the fear born of Axum’s sudden comprehension.
“This is the last time you and I will ever meet anywhere but as individuals in the real world,” she assured him.
“No. Wait,” he pleaded. “How do you know that other threats, greater than this plague, are not out there? What if our gestalt is needed again?”
Seven did not respond. Instead, she ordered her catoms to revise their programming and eliminate their ability to access other catoms directly; just as Riley, Nocks, Jilliant, and all of the former Borg had done when they departed the gestalt.
When she opened her eyes, most of the others had risen from the circle. Riley waited. Extending a hand to Seven, she helped her stand. Then both turned to see Axum gazing up at them with unconcealed anger.
He came to his feet unassisted.
Atonement Page 36
