The second was that the cargo door Kim and Seven had previously utilized had been sealed and several armed Zahl now stood at every entrance to the building. This might have frustrated someone less accustomed to unwinnable scenarios than Lieutenant Harry Kim. As it was, he simply scanned the area for another option and quickly located one. With a brisk gesture for Tuvok and Seven to follow, Kim led the trio toward the automated cargo vessels parked fifty meters from the one that still sat at the closed door. The nearest was already aflame, and everyone in the area was giving the others a wide berth. Kim targeted the vessel farthest from the flames and ushered the team into its empty hold. He then forced his way through the access doors to the main compartment and activated the vehicle. He had no time to program his course. He selected the manual operation mode.
“Secure yourselves as best you can and hold on,” Kim ordered as he nudged the vehicle forward and brought it around, aiming it directly at the transport blocking their way to the building’s cargo door. Most of the soldiers who saw the attack coming jumped out of the way. A few stalwart Zahl stood their ground and opened fire on the vehicle as it approached. Kim ignored them, accelerating to top speed, which wasn’t as much as he’d have liked, and rammed the vehicle into the stationary transport, sending it careening backward into the cargo door, ripping it from its moorings.
The moment the shock of impact had dissipated Kim followed Tuvok and Seven out the rear doors. Both had raised their phasers and stunned the few Zahl now running toward them. Those who had guarded the door were in no position to put up a fight. Kim took the lead and Seven brought up the rear as he hurried into the storage room, shot the interior doors off their hinges, and entered the hallway leading to the nearest staircase accessing the roof.
The bodies that lay on the final stairs and roof landing alerted Kim to the reality that their plan might have just become more complicated. The shouting and intermittent weapons fire coming from the roof, beyond the now-open door, was more bad news. Tuvok settled himself in position to cover Kim, who placed his back to the door, peering as best he could through the opening to access the situation.
Roughly twenty prisoners and half that many Zahl were engaged in a fierce battle for control of the island’s shield generator. From this vantage point, Kim had a clear view of the corner control room located directly across from the stairwell. Its metal door had been ripped from its hinges and was being used as cover by a trio of Rilnar prisoners. A single prisoner stood in the doorway, firing at anyone who approached. Beyond him, two more could be seen working furiously at the shield control panels.
Taking a deep breath, Kim poked his head around the door and noted the intermittent flashing of the force fields that protected the generator. Two other armed Rilnar prisoners were exchanging fire with the Zahl, but every other inmate with a gun was firing it at the shield generator.
It was good to know that within moments the island’s shields would be coming down and should Voyager safely transit the minefield, they could rescue the away team. Kim’s knowledge of the existence of the chroniton torpedoes stored in the bowels of this building made the thought of no shields less comforting. With the island completely unprotected, the planet and much of the system depended upon the ability of the Zahl to defend the island from a Rilnar attack.
The chaos that had descended upon the citadel in the last fifteen minutes told Kim all he needed to know about the likelihood of the Zahl’s security skills and the odds that they were going to be able to protect the island for any significant length of time. A hiss, followed by an abrupt clap of thunder and slight tremor in the building beneath him turned Kim’s eyes upward. The edge of the island’s shields extended approximately a hundred meters above the citadel. Something had just impacted them from the air.
The denzit was attacking the citadel.
Retreating over the bodies and down the stairs, Kim crouched at the next landing beside Seven and Tuvok. “The good news is that the shields are about to come down. With any luck we’ll be transported to safety in the next few minutes.”
“The bad news is that those shields are going to stay down and it is highly unlikely that any of us will live long enough to make our rescue worthwhile, correct?” Tuvok asked.
“Yes,” Kim replied.
Tuvok bowed his head briefly, then removed his combadge from beneath his Zahl jacket and tossed it to Kim. “When the shields fall, use the beacon to alert Voyager to your coordinates and transfer back to the ship.”
“Where are you going?” Kim demanded.
“To save all of us from the denzit,” Tuvok replied.
Before Kim or Seven could protest further, Tuvok hurried back down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness below.
• • •
“Denzit Janeway, Voyager has destroyed the planetary defense field and is approaching Sormana’s orbit. The Rilnar Colonial Command ships are preparing to destroy the Federation vessel. What are you orders?” Limlesh asked.
The supreme commander of the Rilnar forces on Sormana could see the island Tuvok’s team had infiltrated through her shuttle’s forward ports. A dozen low-flying vessels were already coordinating an aerial attack on the island’s shields. They were the strongest of any Zahl defensive shields she had seen on Sormana. It would likely take several runs to bring them down.
That they would be brought down was inevitable. The denzit still had no idea why Tuvok’s team had targeted this island, but the fact that it had gone undetected by her forces for so long and was so well defended meant that its destruction was necessary. This might be the decisive blow in ending thousands of years of conflict.
She did not want to see Tuvok or his team suffer for having given her the opportunity to achieve her goals, despite the fact that they had never intended to do so.
Voyager’s actions were another story. Captain Chakotay was clearly trying to rescue his people. That he had rendered Sormana vulnerable to orbital attacks by the Zahl had probably not weighed heavily on his mind when he gave the order to destroy the minefield, but his choice would be devastating should the war continue after this day. She didn’t blame him. In his position she knew she would have done the same.
As the Rilnar’s leader, she could not allow his attack to go unanswered. As a former Starfleet officer and Voyager’s captain, however briefly, the thought of ordering her ship’s destruction was unimaginable.
In the end, the choice was simpler than she had expected. After Tuvok had saved her life in the tunnels beneath Titha, she had sat a weary vigil by his bedside at Felstar wondering why he had risked so much on her behalf. She was not the woman he had served with in the Delta Quadrant. She was a traitor, a deserter. She had violated her oath and ran roughshod over the principles that had once bound them to each other. Still, he had come for her. He had suffered a life-threating injury meant for her. He had refused to abandon her, even before she had told him why she must secure a Rilnar victory on Sormana.
She could not fail to repay his devotion; not when the only casualty would be her pride.
She issued her orders to Limlesh, knowing he would not understand, certain he would disapprove, and not giving a damn. Then she opened a channel and hailed the commander of the Rilnar Colonial Fleet.
21
VESTA
Counselor Hugh Cambridge was the last person any would ever accuse of harboring romantic tendencies. His courtship of Seven had stalled and nearly faltered on numerous occasions as a result of his deficiencies. That did not make him completely insensitive to the reality that it was easy to abandon all reason when Eros called.
He had listened intently to Agent Dayne’s story. He wanted to believe the Krenim man, if only for the denzit’s sake. If anyone in the multiverse deserved a little compassion, it was any version of Kathryn Janeway who had ever existed. It was nice to think that the denzit had found something worth living for, misguided as it might have been, in the midst of the wreckage that had become her life after she was captured.
/> But sincere as Dayne seemed, Cambridge couldn’t square the man’s words with his eyes. The words were unambiguous. The eyes were calculating, clearly measuring the impact of his story as he told it. Dayne was lying, but like all great liars, he was seasoning those lies generously with bits of truth. Separating the two was no easy matter.
Cambridge rose from the table to give himself a little distance from Dayne’s emotional display. He began pacing a circuit around the other tables, conscious of the fact that the admiral and captain seemed somewhat disconcerted by his rudeness. Dayne hardly seemed to notice.
Crossing his arms at his chest the counselor said, “Temporal mechanics is not my area of expertise. People are. I’m intrigued by your story, Agent Dayne, but there are a few points where I’d like a little clarification.”
“Please,” Dayne offered, opening his hands in a gesture of patient acceptance.
“According to you, we are all now living in the timeline the admiral created when she confronted Annorax,” Cambridge began.
“Restored,” Dayne corrected him gently.
“My apologies, an important distinction, as it clearly indicates which was the aberration and which the appropriate one,” Cambridge allowed. “But in this restored timeline, the Krenim, the Rilnar, and the Zahl all hold vast territories, enjoy great technological advancement—and apart from the people on Sormana—have learned to live with one another in peace.”
“Yes,” Dayne said.
“So even if the Zahl learned of the Year of Hell as we did, why would they want to change anything?”
“I beg your pardon?” Dayne asked.
“If the Zahl stumbled upon one of the same temporally shielded buoys we did, they would have had no reason to target Kathryn Janeway. We’ve heard the logs the captain recorded during her battles with Annorax and none of them so much as mention the Zahl or the Rilnar.”
Dayne remained absolutely still, keeping his eyes fixed on Cambridge. “There’s more to it than—” Dayne began.
The admiral cut him off. “There really isn’t. One of two things must be true. The Zahl, whose only demonstrated proficiency with temporal technology seems to be stealing it, found and decrypted a temporally shielded message buoy from yet another timeline that actually referenced the Zahl and Voyager or . . .”
“Or the Krenim, who by your own admission learned about the Year of Hell a long time ago, created a buoy for the Zahl to find—one that changed the story just enough to make capturing Kathryn Janeway a priority for them,” Farkas finished.
“Actually, there’s a third and much more intriguing possibility,” Cambridge said. “What if the Zahl had nothing to do with this? The first thing that happened to the denzit when she was captured was a period of interrogation and torture. I doubt seriously she was given names, ranks, and serial numbers when that process began. The Krenim are the only species in this quadrant that had a vested interest in Kathryn Janeway prior to the denzit’s arrival on Sormana. They could have captured her, and eventually realized that they had the wrong Kathryn Janeway. The Krenim then fabricated a Zahl conspiracy to convince the Rilnar to free her from her ‘Zahl’ captors and utilize her skills on Sormana. The Krenim’s hands remain clean. Further seeds of suspicion and discord are sewn between the Rilnar and Zahl. After securing her absolute devotion by gaining her trust and her heart, Kathryn Janeway is sent to a place where she can never again do anything to harm the Krenim.”
“It takes a lot of Rilnar and Zahl ships to patrol that blockade on Sormana,” Farkas noted. “One wonders what those ships might do were they not otherwise occupied.”
“Spend some time exploring Krenim space perhaps?” Cambridge suggested.
“At the very least,” Farkas agreed. “You know, that’s the only version of this story that actually makes sense to me.”
Dayne had kept his eyes fixed on Cambridge throughout this discussion. When Farkas had finished, he lowered his head and began to study his hands. Finally, he rose from his chair and shook his head. “I can’t tell you how many times Annorax warned us not to underestimate chaotic variables.”
“Chaotic variables?” the admiral asked.
“You have to understand time as we do. You have to know its moods, its colors, its petty torments,” Dayne said with a bitter smile that had lost all of its boyish charm.
“The first time Voyager was detected on any Krenim temporal survey, it was classified as an inert component, one that had no potential impact on our history. Ironically enough, Annorax made that determination personally using his earliest temporal scanners.
“Every time my agency scans the continuum, you, Admiral, and all Federation ships are classified quite differently. We call you chaotic variables. There is simply no way to predict what the outcome will be when you become involved. You are the only components currently designated as such.”
After a long, thoughtful pause, Dayne finally admitted, “The Krenim Temporal Defense Agency had to know the reason why. Kathryn Janeway had to be captured and studied so that she could be properly classified.”
“The Krenim captured her,” Janeway said softly. “You wanted me,” she continued through gritted teeth, “but you got her. She couldn’t have begun to answer your questions, to account for her actions during the Year of Hell, but you tortured her anyway.”
“Why didn’t you just kill her?” Farkas asked.
“If you try to tell us again it was because you were in love with her, Agent Dayne, I’m going to escort you to the nearest airlock myself and push you out of it,” Cambridge warned.
“To kill her would have produced more counter-indications than any other scenario,” Dayne said. “We transported her to a stolen Zahl vessel. I helped the Rilnar ‘retrieve’ her, with the intention of ultimately placing her on Sormana, where her range of possible actions became limited to a finite set.
“Almost as soon as she was settled there, our calculations began to change. Her death began to appear with a shocking consistency across multiple timelines. We didn’t understand why. We assumed it might have something to do with our actions. But it didn’t matter. It seemed that time had decided to solve the Janeway problem permanently and for that my superiors were grateful.”
“Until she came back to life?” Cambridge asked.
Dayne laughed half-heartedly. “Once that happened, my agency was forced to revise its position. It was determined that no further interference in the fate of Kathryn Janeway could be permitted. That changed a few weeks ago when this ship first ventured into Krenim space. Obviously, I didn’t expect to find you here, Admiral,” Dayne said pointedly, “but according to our most recent calculations—the ones that now include the interference of your fleet on Sormana—the entire planet and much of the space around it will be destroyed in the next few hours.”
Dayne moved to stand directly across from the admiral, who rose to meet his eyes. “Congratulations, Admiral Janeway. You have once again managed to insert yourself into a situation that has nothing to do with you and by your actions have damned millions, if not more, to untimely death.”
VOYAGER
Whenever Voyager was in a position where it was necessary to open fire on an alien vessel, Captain Chakotay stopped thinking about all of the different decisions he might have made that could have rendered this moment unnecessary. He focused on the only part that mattered, making sure his ship survived the engagement.
As Voyager approached the Rilnar picket line he was thinking about attack patterns. He didn’t need to destroy every ship out there. He needed to punch a hole in their blockade. Even if he could seriously damage one or better yet, two of the ships in Voyager’s path, the other ten would quickly close the gap. Once the away team was recovered, Gwyn was going to have to spend at least a minute plotting a point of orbital release that would allow the ship to go to warp and avoid colliding with both the Rilnar and the Zahl moving into the area of engagement.
That wasn’t going to be easy, but Gwyn had extricated them fr
om equally fraught scenarios. The captain knew that Tom’s faith in Gwyn’s piloting shills exceeded even his. When Commander Paris left his seat at Chakotay’s left hand, moved to the conn, and began to speak softly to Gwyn, the captain wondered if he had finally asked too much of her. If Paris felt it necessary to personally direct her efforts over the next few minutes, their odds of safely executing this rescue were probably lower than he’d calculated.
“Lieutenant Aubrey, attack pattern beta six,” Chakotay ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Aubrey acknowledged.
Gwyn made a slight course correction in response to the chosen attack pattern. Voyager was about to fire on two Rilnar ships at once. Depending on the alien vessels’ shield strength and weapon’s systems, this might be enough to create the gap Chakotay required.
A few heartbeats passed in tense silence. The timing would be critical. Voyager’s forward motion had already alerted the Rilnar vessels to Chakotay’s intentions. If they broke formation or opened fire, an alternate attack pattern would be required.
“Steady as she goes, Ensign Gwyn,” Chakotay ordered.
“Aye, Captain.”
Chakotay was poised to give the order to open fire when the two ships in his sights altered their courses. They were breaking the line but moving toward Voyager, closing the distance between the ships while simultaneously eliminating Voyager’s ability to take them both out at once.
Chakotay always gave those he met in battle the benefit of the doubt. He assumed they were as smart as he was, if not smarter, and never dared hope that they would fail to anticipate his tactics. This was one time he wished he had overestimated the Rilnar. Then he remembered that they had Kathryn Janeway on their side. He should have known better than to hope for a tactical error.
Star Trek: Voyager: A Pocket Full of Lies Page 28
