Star Trek: Voyager: A Pocket Full of Lies

by Kirsten Beyer

  “Please, just tell me.”

  She obviously wanted to refuse. She looked away, collected her thoughts, and turned to face him again.

  “I was seriously injured,” she began, her voice utterly devoid of emotion. “The doctors tell me I died while they were attempting to repair what damage they could. The base from which I was coordinating our defenses at that time had come under attack. We lost many good men and women that day. A specialist had come in, an off-world physician sent to reinforce our dwindling supply of doctors. He saved me. He brought me back.”

  Chakotay released a deep breath he had not realized he was holding. He wanted to apologize for all she had suffered, all she had endured, all she had been forced to risk. The life of the woman he loved had been excruciating enough. He had never imagined that anyone’s could have been worse. But hers came damned close.

  He didn’t expect this part of the truth to make any sense to her and he wished to spare her the additional suffering but he knew she deserved as much of it as he could share.

  “The Kathryn Janeway I serve with died on that day,” he finally said. “She had gone to investigate an unusual Borg cube. It absorbed her and transformed her into its queen. It was ultimately destroyed.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the denzit offered, truly meeting his eyes for the first time among the ruins of shared grief. “And you now command Voyager in her place?”

  Chakotay shook his head. “We made it home about six months after you and I met. We continued to serve in the Alpha Quadrant until a year ago. Kathryn’s death happened there. Starfleet assembled a fleet of vessels to continue our explorations of the Delta Quadrant after her death.”

  “And you were the obvious choice to lead that fleet?”

  “Not at first. A lot has happened in the last year, including the resurrection of our Admiral Janeway.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “To make an incredibly long story short, the Q took exception to Kathryn’s death. They returned her to us to correct an imbalance created in the multiverse by the actions of an ancient species.”

  “The Q? I vaguely remember—”

  “Voyager didn’t encounter them until about a year and a half into our journey.”

  “Are you saying we both died at the same moment in time more than two years ago, and both of us are still alive?”

  “It looks that way. Admiral Janeway leads our fleet.”

  The denzit took a deep breath. “I see.”

  “There’s so much more to tell you. Obviously, Starfleet had no idea that you existed. If we had, we would have moved heaven and earth to find you. But we’re here now. You can come back with me. We can return you to the Alpha Quadrant, you can see your mother and sister again; whatever you wish.”

  “I apologize, Captain, if anything I have said or done here has misled you. Your Admiral Janeway is living the life of which I once dreamed. But that life is hers. When I resigned from Starfleet, I did not intend it as a temporary solution. I have accepted my new life here. My presence is critical to the Rilnar efforts to free Sormana from the Zahl. I won’t abandon them now or ever.” Rising from her chair, she said, “If you will come with me, I will take you to your crew. You will all be returned to your ship. At that point you should set your course away from Sormana and never look back.”

  VESTA

  The conference room was filled with expectant faces when Captain Chakotay entered. In addition to the other fleet captains—Farkas, Glenn, and O’Donnell—Admiral Janeway had ordered Paris, the Doctor, Seven, and Counselor Cambridge to join the briefing. There had not been time yet for the Doctor to return Paris and Cambridge to their human appearance, but he had restored his matrix’s customary display. Lieutenant Decan stood behind her chair making notations on a padd.

  Chakotay took the seat to Janeway’s right. Before he had settled himself she said, “Well, Captain?”

  “In order for me to explain to you how Denzit Janeway came to be on Sormana, I will have to violate the Temporal Prime Directive,” Chakotay began.

  Janeway exhaled her frustration slowly. “For the purposes of this meeting, that directive is suspended. Mister Decan, stop all recordings. No officer present will discuss anything Captain Chakotay is about to reveal. Understood?”

  Nods all around the table were swift and sharp.

  “The event in question occurred on stardate 54391. In order to avert a catastrophe I was forced to overload Voyager’s deflector dish.”

  “I remember that,” Janeway said softly.

  “As required, I filed a classified incident report and scheduled it for transmission to the Department of Temporal Investigations as soon as Voyager was in range. After we returned, I attended a brief meeting with an agent from the DTI and was ordered to maintain my silence regarding the incident.”

  Chakotay went on to explain as succinctly as possible the events of that day; the encounter with the temporal rupture, the shattering of the ship into more than three dozen time frames, the chroniton-infused serum the Doctor devised and how he used it to restore the ship to his timeframe with the assistance of the version of Captain Janeway from Voyager’s past. He then added the information Denzit Janeway had given him, including the Zahl attack and their capture of the denzit. Finally, he confirmed that the denzit had died, along with every other version of Kathryn Janeway in June 2380, but had been revived by a Rilnar physician.

  “You believe her?” Admiral Janeway asked once Chakotay had finished his recitation.

  “I do,” he replied.

  “So do I,” Commander Paris added. When Janeway shifted her gaze to him, he continued, “It was downright eerie to meet her. She’s you, Admiral, and at the same time, she isn’t.”

  “Explain,” Seven requested.

  “Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to observe the admiral under many stressful situations. This denzit has the same strength and determination I’ve come to see as one of Admiral Janeway’s defining characteristics. But the woman I met is also incredibly angry. I can’t imagine that she’s happy with the turn of events that led her to Sormana.”

  “I agree with that assessment,” Chakotay said.

  “That’s to be expected, isn’t it?” Cambridge asked. “True, in the last five years she’s gone from living in hell to ruling over it, but it’s still hell.”

  “I assume you advised her that our fleet would arrange to return her to the Alpha Quadrant immediately,” Janeway said.

  “I did. She refused. She says she won’t abandon the Rilnar on Sormana.”

  “Isn’t there a name for that neurosis?” Farkas asked.

  “It’s similar to Stockholm syndrome,” Cambridge began.

  “Not precisely,” the Doctor interjected before the counselor could continue. “Had she grown to sympathize with the Zahl, the case would be cut-and-dried. But she has transferred her allegiance to the Rilnar.”

  “She’s still a Starfleet officer,” Janeway said. “Her first duty is to the Federation.”

  “She resigned her commission, Admiral,” Chakotay reminded her.

  “Under extreme duress,” Janeway clarified. “Given all she has endured, it is understandable, but there must be some way to reach her and convince her that the path she is choosing to follow is . . .”

  “Is what?” O’Donnell asked.

  “Inappropriate,” Janeway finished. “It is clear that the Rilnar are technologically advanced, perhaps even on par with the Federation, but the expertise she gained as a Starfleet officer is specialized. Regulations don’t allow for her to use it in the service of anyone’s interests other than Starfleet’s.”

  “You’re worried that she is violating the Prime Directive?” O’Donnell asked, incredulous.

  “She very well could be,” Janeway replied. “The Nihydron indicated that the Rilnar were on the verge of losing this fight until she took command of their forces. If she is the reason for that, the case is cut-and-dried, whether she used her knowledge to improve the Ril
nar’s tactics or weapons, or simply put existing ones to better use. She’s interfering with the development of two civilizations and may be the determining factor should the Rilnar ultimately prevail.”

  “Don’t we have a bigger problem here?” Farkas said.

  “The Zahl intelligence that caused them to attack Voyager in the first place,” Seven said.

  “Where did that come from?” Farkas asked.

  “The denzit was convinced that the evidence was authentic,” Chakotay said. “But I can’t imagine where it came from either. She also said that it has long been believed, but never confirmed, that the Zahl have some unique facility with temporal weapons.”

  Janeway sat back in her chair, clasping her hands on the table. She appeared to consider the situation from multiple angles.

  “Obviously, we need to investigate that claim,” Janeway said. “If Voyager did encounter the Zahl and none of us remember it, that suggests that the current timeline has been corrupted.”

  “Not necessarily,” Seven said. “Depending on the Zahl’s level of expertise, they may have misunderstood whatever intelligence led them to capture the denzit. She said they were attempting to revise history with a chroniton torpedo and failed. They’ve mastered nothing. It is possible that whatever events they took issue with never affected this timeline.”

  “You think they are looking at information from an alternate timeline and aren’t aware of that fact?” Farkas asked.

  “Without analyzing the data’s source, it is impossible to reach any conclusion.”

  “Do you suppose the Zahl would turn that intelligence over to us if we asked nicely?” Farkas asked.

  “Hang on,” O’Donnell interrupted. “If the Zahl were concerned enough about Voyager’s presence in this quadrant to attack the ship and capture its captain, why haven’t they responded more forcefully to us?” he asked.

  “Maybe they’ve detected the entire fleet and are wary of engaging it,” Farkas suggested.

  “They’ve got more than twenty ships patrolling the perimeter of that minefield. I’m guessing that’s just scratching the surface of their entire fleet. Our four ships are no real threat to them. They should never have answered Chakotay’s hail in the first place. They should have opened fire the moment they detected Voyager,” O’Donnell insisted.

  “He’s got a point,” Cambridge said.

  “Could the denzit have been lying to you about the Zahl?” Janeway asked Chakotay. “She might have named them as her captors in order to justify taking the Rilnar’s side in this fight.”

  Chakotay paused before replying. “I didn’t sense any deception from her. I sensed pain, regret, and defensiveness, but for all that, she was more open than you might expect under the circumstances.”

  “Kes,” the Doctor muttered.

  “Doctor?” Janeway asked.

  “Stardate 50786.1, Kes reported experiencing a time paradox. She was moving backward in time and instructed me to construct a bio-temporal chamber to purge her system of chroniton particles. She said she was exposed when a Krenim torpedo became lodged in the ship and she came in contact with it in order to determine its precise temporal variance,” the Doctor summarized.

  “We’re not that far from Krenim space,” Chakotay said.

  “The year from hell,” Janeway said softly. “No, the Year of Hell,” she corrected herself.

  “I beg your pardon, Admiral?” Farkas asked.

  “Kes reported a number of troubling facts from the future she saw during that experience. One of them was a sustained battle between Voyager and the Krenim that the crew referred to as the Year of Hell,” Janeway clarified.

  “Kes left the ship not long after that,” Paris reminded her. “There’s no way to know if anything she remembered of that future actually happened.”

  “It is true that an individual’s experience of an alternate time thread does not automatically correlate to the permanent existence of that thread,” Seven interjected. “It might have existed briefly, or never, once you were able to eliminate the chroniton particles from Kes’s body.”

  “But it’s still intriguing, isn’t it?” O’Donnell asked. “We now have reports from two sources—that as best we can tell, never met each other—of a sustained conflict in this sector in which Voyager participated. I, for one, think that requires follow-up.”

  “I agree,” Janeway said, “but the greater priority is convincing the denzit to come to her senses.” After a moment, the admiral added, “I should speak with her.”

  “No,” Cambridge said immediately.

  “Why not?” Janeway asked, not irritated but predisposed in that direction depending on the counselor’s answer.

  “Objectivity is a challenge for anyone in your position, Admiral. In this case, you cannot be expected to summon any, let alone enough to effectively advocate for your position in that argument.”

  “She’s you, Admiral,” Farkas said. “She knows every tactic you could possibly devise to convince her to change her mind. She’s had that conversation with herself already and apparently you lost.”

  “At the time she made the choice to aid the Rilnar, she must have believed that rescue by Starfleet was no longer a possibility,” Janeway countered. “Now that it is . . .”

  “She doesn’t want to be rescued,” Chakotay said. “She was very clear on that point.”

  “Then she has a reason beyond what she already communicated to you that she has not yet revealed,” Janeway said.

  “How do you know that?” O’Donnell asked, then added immediately, “Apologies. I retract the question.”

  “She did mention a Rilnar officer named Dayne with whom she apparently shared an intimate relationship,” Chakotay said. “I have no idea if he is still in the picture. I didn’t really press her for details about her personal life. But either way, I don’t believe you will be more successful than I was in convincing her to come with us. Apart from you and I, there’s no one who knows her well enough or who she would trust, to even make the attempt. I’m willing to try again, but . . .”

  “There’s no one here now,” Paris said. “But there is someone.”

  Janeway looked to Paris and smiled. “You’re right.” After a moment she continued, “Captain Farkas, prepare the Vesta to begin a search of the area between here and Krenim space for any evidence of this Year of Hell. Commander Glenn, I want you to take the Galen into Zahl space. Seven will accompany you. Commander O’Donnell, you’ll take Demeter into Rilnar space. Given his expertise in comparative mythology and alien psychology, I’d like you to continue working with Counselor Cambridge. I want all of you to learn all you can of the history of the conflict on Sormana from each of these species’ points of view. While you do that, Captain Chakotay will take Voyager to the Beta Quadrant.”

  “To rendezvous with Titan?” Chakotay asked.

  “I’ll prepare a formal temporary transfer request for you to present to Captain Riker,” Janeway said, nodding. Rising sharply, she added, “Dismissed.”

  7

  VOYAGER

  There you are,” Lieutenant Harry Kim said as he moved to stand behind Lieutenant Conlon at the main holodeck control panel. She said nothing as he wrapped his arms around her waist and began to lightly kiss the back of her neck. “Shift ended an hour ago, Lieutenant,” he reminded her. “We’re both off duty at the same time for the first time in days.”

  A pleasant shiver ran up Conlon’s spine but she continued entering the parameters for the simulation she was creating. A large screen hung suspended before her, lines of programming code in a continuous string. In the center of the lab, a holographic representation of Voyager’s computer core had been recreated.

  Kim was not dissuaded by her silence. As his caresses became more insistent, Conlon paused the simulation she was running and began entering a new set of parameters into the holomatrix.

  “I don’t have a lot of time tonight,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically low.

  “I co
uld order a site-to-site transport to my quarters,” Kim suggested, “or yours, if you’d prefer.”

  Conlon shook her head, finally turning to face Kim. “We’re on a holodeck, Harry,” she reminded him.

  Kim smiled, puzzled. He then looked past her to see that the setting had changed to a moonlit glen filled with fragrant night blossoms. A pool of water was edged by a long bank of soft earth.

  “Computer,” Kim called, “secure main holodeck and lock the door. Accept no overrides, authorization Kim pi gamma epsilon.”

  • • •

  A few hours later, Kim was still lying on the warm ground counting his lucky stars. Conlon began to extricate herself from his arms and search the landscape for the various pieces of her uniform.

  “I’m starved,” Kim said, rolling onto his side and resting his head on his hand as he watched her dress. “Want to go to the mess for a midnight snack?”

  “Tempting,” she agreed, “but I really need to get back to work.”

  “On what?” Kim asked. “Engineering is finally back in one piece again, isn’t it?”

  Having located and donned her undergarments, trousers, and shirt, Conlon settled herself beside him, sitting cross-legged. “Yes. It’s not that. I’m working on a redesign of our security authorization parameters.”

  “Why?” Kim asked, intrigued.

  “I understand the need for command-level officers to be able to access primary systems and modify them as needed in an emergency situation,” Conlon replied. “But twice now in the last year, we’ve had aliens using those clearances, which left the rest of us at their mercy. We need to stop countering these attacks and instead, prepare for them.”

  “That sounds like something you should discuss with Voyager’s chief of security, don’t you think?” Kim teased.

  “I would, but he can’t keep his hands off of me when we’re alone together,” she said, smiling.

  “You want me to put him on report?” Kim asked.

  “I’d rather he just helped me.”

  Kim sat up. “Glad to. Let me get dressed while you tell me what you’re thinking.”

  As he rose to do so, Conlon said, “Right now, various operations require unique command level clearances. As long as you are an officer with appropriate clearance, the chief of security, for example, and can enter your personal codes, like you did when you locked that door, the computer will accept limited changes to any standard protocol you are allowed to access. The higher up you go, or depending upon your area of specialization, the range of modifications you can make becomes greater, as do the number of systems you can access. But anyone with your command codes can make changes on your behalf.”