“Out of how many?” Farkas asked, steeling herself.
“Two thousand six hundred and nine.”
“Damn.”
“I’m amazed you saved as many as you did, given the time you had and the other pressing priorities.”
The words were encouraging. Their tone was flat. Farkas didn’t know half of what this woman had endured before the fleet had arrived at Sormana, let alone since then, but she knew post-traumatic stress when she saw it. There was a palpable distance between this version of Kathryn Janeway and the rest of the universe. She was retreating into herself. While performing all of the tasks required by her former positions with both the Rilnar and Starfleet, she seemed to be sleep-walking through the necessary motions.
Silence fell between them again. Farkas didn’t bother trying to draw Kathryn out. Indeed, it would have been unkind to do so. It was going to take years of work by dedicated professionals to bring this woman back to anything resembling life. Quiet companionship was the only thing of value Farkas had to offer her, and she gave it most willingly.
A sudden spark of restlessness pulled Kathryn from her musings. She lifted her eyes to Farkas’s face, keeping her own fiercely neutral. The two women stared at each other, not really communicating, simply waiting.
“How did that happen?”
Farkas was shocked by the question.
“What?”
Kathryn lifted her right hand and with her first finger, traced a line down the side of her face in the same location as a visible scar Farkas bore.
“Oh, this? Noncorporeal life-forms invaded my ship.”
Kathryn nodded.
After another long moment Farkas ran her hand across the front of her neck where Kathryn’s flesh was heavily scarred. “You?”
“Zahl—pardon me—Krenim shock collar.”
Farkas nodded.
Finally, the door to the ready room slid open and the admiral entered with her aide, Decan, behind her. Farkas started to rise but the admiral gestured for her to keep her seat. She settled herself in the chair next to her doppelganger while Decan stood discreetly behind them.
The two Kathryn Janeways might have been difficult to tell apart were it not for the admiral’s uniform and the other’s plain brown tunic, pants, and jacket. Until the admiral spoke. Her energy, her presence was in sharp, vivid contrast to that of the woman who shared little with her beyond a physical resemblance.
“Day ten of formal negotiations between Sormana’s leaders, the Rilnar Colonial commanders, and the Zahl Regnancy has ended. As best I can tell, they are still months away from finalizing a treaty.”
“They’re nine days closer to that goal than I thought they would ever get, Admiral,” Farkas noted.
“The near destruction of Rahalla has changed everyone’s calculations. At no time in the past was the leadership on either side concerned about a planet-killing event. The Rilnar didn’t have access to weapons that could do it and the Zahl never had any intention of using theirs on Sormana. Knowledge of those chroniton torpedoes was classified to the highest levels of the Zahl military.”
Turning to the former denzit, the admiral said, “You did very well yesterday.”
Kathryn nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Your testimony and Silbrit’s were exactly what the Regnancy and Colonial Command have been waiting to hear. It gave them the leverage they need to pressure Sormana’s arbiters in a way they never could before. Now they have the military on both sides calling for peace. The politicians will fall in line.”
“How long will it be until Rahalla is excavated?” Farkas asked.
“Silbrit thinks they will be able to access the pools within two weeks. They’re already building the replacement portals and interfaces. Once everyone gets back down there and can see the future of continued conflict versus peace, things should start to move quickly toward resolution.”
“How did they take your briefing about the Krenim?”
The admiral shrugged. “It scared the hell out of both sides. I hate to think that the thing that might ultimately unite the Rilnar and Zahl in common purpose is a new shared enemy, but . . .”
“You’ll take it?” Farkas asked.
The admiral nodded. “I’ve agreed to share our temporal shield technology with the Rilnar and Zahl. The fact that our fleet has not observed any changes in the last week and a half with our temporal shields in continuous use is comforting, but I don’t think anyone is going to sleep well here until they have rendered the Krenim’s weapons obsolete. At the very least, the Krenim shouldn’t be able to continue to alter time without the Rilnar’s and Zahl’s knowledge.”
“The Krenim control more than twice as much territory as anybody else in this sector. Their fleet is strong. Their space is well defended. Maybe they’ll just decide to leave well enough alone,” Farkas suggested.
“Maybe,” the admiral said without real enthusiasm. Turning again to Kathryn she said, “I’ve had temporary quarters prepared for you aboard Vesta. Voyager will be returning to the Beta Quadrant shortly to take Tuvok back to his ship. They’ll return you to Earth at the same time, if you like. Starfleet Command is going to require a lengthy debriefing, but they will also do everything they can to make your transition as easy as possible. I’ll see to it that you are assigned to work with Counselor Rori Austen. She was very helpful to me last year.”
When Kathryn didn’t respond the admiral added, “Of course, if you need more time, you’re free to remain with the fleet a little longer. We have a number of fine counselors here as well, and they are at your disposal. I have no intention of forcing you to do anything with which you aren’t completely comfortable.”
“When do I have to decide?” Kathryn asked.
“We still have a few days.”
Kathryn nodded.
Farkas hadn’t noticed Decan moving from the doorway to her replicator but she was suddenly aware of him standing between the two Janeways, offering each a steaming mug of coffee. The admiral accepted hers gratefully, inhaled the steam, and took a generous swig. Kathryn nodded to Decan and after considering the beverage warily took a small sip. Everyone in the room watched her intently for a reaction.
Kathryn swallowed with a grimace, paused, and said, “That’s disappointing.”
The admiral appeared ready to argue the point. Farkas quickly interjected, “What about our cargo?”
“The Zahl want their torpedoes back. I don’t really have a choice but to comply. At least the Rilnar know about them now and I have advised both sides of my belief that sharing the technology should be part of their final mutual defense pact.”
Kathryn set her cup on the edge of Farkas’s desk and rose from her chair. “Would it be possible for me to see Tuvok again before I make my final decision?”
“Of course,” the admiral replied. “I’ll take you to the transporter room myself.”
“Thank you.”
Farkas watched them depart, certain that the admiral was well on her way to putting this mess behind her and wondering if Kathryn would ever be able to do the same.
GALEN
Nancy Conlon didn’t remember much of the last several days. They had passed in a blur of routine consisting largely of mornings spent in sickbay with Doctor Sharak, evenings in her quarters aboard Voyager, and once the fleet had regrouped, a transfer to Galen. Her new quarters on the specialized medical vessel were smaller than she was accustomed to. Most of her personal effects were still packed in storage crates piled beside her rack. Any day now she expected word to arrive indicating that she was about to be sent back to Starfleet Medical.
She knew this to be true because every time she spoke to B’Elanna, the commander had insisted that nothing of the sort was under discussion. Torres had visited briefly with her daily, usually with Michael and Miral in tow. Sometimes in their presence she forgot briefly that the life she’d built with the fleet was over. Torres had assumed command of Voyager’s engine room but kept promising Conlon that it
was only temporary. Nothing had changed, nor would change. As soon as Conlon was well enough to return to duty, Voyager would be hers again.
Conlon would not allow herself to entertain the notion. She knew better.
It was getting harder to refuse Harry’s daily requests to speak with her. Once the crisis on Sormana had passed he’d come to her quarters but she had still been confined to sickbay at the time. She had asked Doctor Sharak to refuse him access and Sharak had honored her request. Conlon knew she could trust Sharak and B’Elanna not to reveal her personal situation to Kim. She knew the absence of information and her transfer to Galen must be driving him to distraction, but she simply couldn’t deal with him. She needed to know more about her condition before she decided how much to share with him. If in the meantime his understandable anger with her caused his feelings to change, that might be for the best for both of them.
Counselor Cambridge had also dropped by daily, but once she had come clean about her past lies their sessions had devolved into long bouts of silence on her part punctuated by his unsuccessful attempts to draw her out. Conlon wondered if he had already given up on her.
She had submitted to a number of new tests while aboard the Galen. Sharak had administered them with the Doctor always nearby. Both had assured her that they were working diligently to understand the nature of her current condition and would advise her as soon as they understood exactly what they were dealing with. Each day that passed further cemented her belief that whatever was wrong with her, the Full Circle Fleet’s medical staff was not going to be able to resolve it.
She entered Galen’s sickbay that morning, as usual, expecting to find Sharak and the Doctor ready to describe the new day’s tests. Instead, she found the two of them seated in the Doctor’s office along with Doctor Sal and Counselor Cambridge.
She almost turned to go back to her quarters, suddenly queasy. Before she could, the Doctor noted her presence and nodded to Cambridge, who immediately rose and met her in the main bay.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” he greeted her.
“Counselor.”
“Join us.”
It didn’t sound like an order, but it was.
Conlon entered the office and was given the chair between Sal and Cambridge. Sharak stood behind the Doctor, who sat at his desk, his monitor turned out so that all could see the data he was describing.
Sharak was the first to speak. “I apologize, Lieutenant Conlon, for the length of time it has taken us to brief you more fully on your condition. It is an extremely complicated case and it has taken us until now to determine the precise nature of the challenge before us.”
“Before we could figure out what it was, we had to make sure we knew what it wasn’t,” Sal clarified.
“So what is it?” Conlon asked, wondering when and why Doctor Sal had been brought into the loop.
Sharak began the explanation. “Your previous panels and history suggested either a resurgence of the appia veraba organism you were exposed to while serving aboard the da Vinci, or a complication induced by the retrovirus that was developed to combat it. We have finally proven both of these hypotheses invalid.”
Conlon released a full breath and her heart began to race in relief. “Really?”
Sharak nodded somberly. For a man who had just given her the best news she had ever heard, he didn’t seem to share her relief.
“We then set about analyzing the alterations to your DNA that are present,” the Doctor said, picking up the story. “We believe now that the changes we have detected in your immune system, the odd hormone levels, and noticeable absence of other infectious agents were the result of Xolani’s attempt to assume control of your body.”
“I don’t understand. You said—” Conlon began.
The Doctor cut her off. “Xolani told you that you were slowly dying due to an old infection. That was a lie. He lied to you to convince you to stop fighting him. I, too, briefly encountered his essence when he tried to take over my holomatrix upon your death. Believe me when I tell you that there was nothing Xolani wouldn’t have said or done to gain your compliance. He offered me . . . well, let’s just say, the one thing I wanted most in the world.”
“And you refused?” Conlon asked.
“Just as you did, until he made you believe that self-sacrifice was the best choice before you. But Xolani was the one who damaged your genetic material. We still don’t understand the mode of transmission fully. I don’t think we ever will. What we are left with, are the results, and they are undeniable.
“As Doctor Sharak first suspected, you have what we refer to as a DNA damage repair syndrome. The vast majority of your genetic material is unaltered. What Xolani’s attack apparently did was eliminate your body’s natural ability to repair corrupted DNA. Countless metabolic processes and environmental exposures damage human DNA on a daily basis. This would be a problem if your cells did not also have the ability to recognize this damage and fix it. If the damage is too significant, the affected cells are usually programmed to die, which is advantageous because they can no longer pass along their mutated genetic information.
“In your case, this essential process has been halted. Many of the initial complications such as cancerous growths we can remove as they develop. But unless we can restore your body’s ability to repair its own DNA, over time you will develop a number of degenerative conditions. You will lose mobility, your sight, auditory processing capabilities, and most of your higher brain functions. Unless we intervene, you will succumb to this condition within the next three years, perhaps less if an opportunistic infection takes hold and your immune system is no longer able to counter it.”
“Eventually, a cold could kill you,” Sal said simply.
Conlon’s head was light. She hadn’t begun to absorb all of what she had heard, but the broad strokes were pretty clear.
She’d been right. She was dying. Of what didn’t really matter anymore.
“Yours is a unique case, with no proven treatment regimen,” Sharak continued. “But that is going to change over the next several months. The Doctor, Sal, and I will be working together to develop the necessary protocols to restore what has been lost. Believe me when I tell you, we will succeed. Doctor Sal was personally responsible for the eradication of a DNA damage repair syndrome as complicated as yours. We are fortunate indeed to have access to her brilliance.”
“It’s true,” Sal said, “not the brilliance part. The reason we are most likely to succeed is that you have something going for you that the victims of Vega Nine never did.”
“What?”
“You’re pregnant, Lieutenant,” Sal said.
Cambridge shot her a stern look. “And people think I’m tactless,” he muttered.
“No, I’m not,” Conlon said automatically.
“Yes, you are,” Sharak assured her. “You are three weeks along, still too soon for you to have noticed, but we detected it ten days ago.”
Shock rendered Conlon incapable of doing the mental math required to confirm Sharak’s statement, but she didn’t really need to. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but tears began to stream down her face before she had consciously made up her mind.
“I don’t want it,” were the first words she could form.
“Hang on,” Sal said, taking Conlon’s left hand and squeezing it firmly. Staring Conlon directly in the eye, she continued, “I don’t give a damn about your personal situation. You have to think about more than that right now. This baby is your salvation. The stem cells your body is creating are not affected by what Xolani did. They are perfect and we can use them to cure you. If you terminate your pregnancy before we have a chance to do that, the odds of us finding another solution in time to save you get a lot longer.”
“I don’t care,” Conlon said. “I won’t have a baby just to save myself.”
“Most people have babies for significantly less compelling reasons,” Cambridge said. “Listen to me. This is too much for anyone to take in an
d fully process in a few minutes. You need time. We need to talk. Everyone in this room appreciates how horrible this is and everyone in this room is committed to making it better. We are a team. We are going to work through this together. You will know everything we know as we go along. You don’t have to decide anything right now, so don’t even try.”
“We have cross-checked the fetus’s DNA. Are you inclined to consider telling Lieutenant Kim about your situation before you make a final determination?” the Doctor asked gently.
“You don’t have to,” Sal interjected. “It’s your choice and your right to privacy in this matter is absolute.”
“Again,” Cambridge said, “a lot to process. For the moment, we will tell you how we intend to proceed.”
Conlon nodded, wondering how many choices she really had anymore.
“You will be temporarily reassigned to Galen,” the counselor said. “All of your treatments will be coordinated here because this medical marvel Starfleet was kind enough to construct has the ability to monitor your body’s systems continuously in a way no other vessel can, no matter where you are on board. Initially, you will have access to your quarters, sickbay, the holodecks, and mess hall. You will not be expected to perform any of your regular duties until further notice. You and I will meet daily for several hours. You will report to sickbay as needed for further tests. You will be permitted to speak with any other fleet crew members you wish but they will have to transport here in order to do so. It is entirely up to you how much of your condition you wish to share with anyone.”
“Am I a prisoner?” Conlon asked.
“For the next several weeks at least, your access will be restricted for your own good,” the Doctor said
“Just tell her the damn truth,” Sal said. “We don’t want to see you hurt yourself, Nancy. A lot of people in your shoes might make that choice. That’s the only course we’re not going to allow you to take.”
Conlon understood. They thought she might attempt suicide. To be honest, it seemed like a perfectly valid choice. That it might also be murder didn’t really bother her right now. The baby growing inside her wasn’t even real yet.
Star Trek: Voyager: A Pocket Full of Lies Page 34
