Star Trek: Voyager: A Pocket Full of Lies

by Kirsten Beyer

  Harry’s baby, she suddenly thought, and felt her gorge rise.

  She considered the expectant faces surrounding her one at a time. They were as frightened as she was. When her eyes met the Doctor’s a new thought crossed her mind. You should never have brought me back.

  Perhaps sensing this, the Doctor said, “We’re not going to pretend that this isn’t a dark road ahead, Nancy. What we can promise you is that you’re not going to walk it alone.”

  VOYAGER

  After the Sormana crisis was resolved, Commander Torres had ordered Icheb back to Voyager. Apparently Lieutenant Conlon had been restored to active duty prematurely and had been ordered to take an extended period of recuperation. As a result, Torres was temporarily assuming command of Voyager’s engineering while still functioning as the entire fleet’s chief engineer.

  There was no shortage of work to be done. Torres’s hours in engineering were restricted, given the demands of her infant. Icheb was required to be present for every duty shift during which the fleet chief was unavailable. Initially, the staff had reacted to this unenthusiastically. Almost every time he approached one of the engineers, usually with a request from Commander Torres, he was met with wary silence and grudging compliance. Apparently his desire to take initiative in his early days as Torres’s aide was going to haunt him for some time.

  Icheb accepted this as cheerfully as possible. He understood that he had created the problem and believed it was his to resolve. Under no circumstances would he trouble Commander Torres with his personal concerns. He would earn the respect of Voyager’s engineers, just as he had begun to earn that of the Vesta’s. He had already discovered that he preferred to spend his off-hours with Phinn and his staff, and did so as frequently as duty and proximity permitted.

  Vesta’s engineers were engaged in a new and exciting project. They had been tasked with developing larger-scale applications for the temporal shielding Icheb and Bryce had implemented throughout the fleet. No one had told Icheb why this was necessary, but he assumed that it might be the Krenim’s existence. This was a task that under normal circumstances Icheb might have been asked to be assigned to. As it was, Voyager could not spare him.

  Icheb told himself he wasn’t hiding in the chief’s office on the second level of engineering. He was studying the morning’s reports and prioritizing items for Commander Torres’s review when much to his surprise, Lieutenant Bryce entered.

  “Icheb, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

  “Never. I mean, of course you aren’t.”

  Bryce grinned and tossed a padd on the desk. “Take a look at this when you have some time.”

  “What is it?”

  “We’ll call it a self-diagnostic.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ve done my own performance review. You and I never had a chance to complete yours but it’s been bothering me. I want to do better. I know you can help me with that. Just don’t try to tell me I’m being too hard on myself. I can take criticism.”

  “Do you have any idea how unique that makes you among our fleet’s engineers?” Icheb asked.

  Bryce seriously considered the question. “No.”

  Icheb’s failure with Commander O’Donnell had never been far from his thoughts. As a rule, failure was not part of Icheb’s routine. His reception by Voyager’s engineers was a constant reminder of all he had yet to learn and part of him was grateful that Commander Torres had ordered him to drop the Demeter issue. But he remained unsatisfied.

  It was an unusual place in which to find himself and he wondered if Bryce could relate. Until now, Icheb might not have risked the question. Phinn’s good opinion of him had become too important. But it was also possible that Vesta’s young chief engineer might have some insight into the matter. He had served with the fleet since launch more than a year earlier and already worked closely with each of the fleet’s chief engineers.

  “The first review I completed was for Demeter. I presented it to Commander O’Donnell and he refused to allow me to give it to Lieutenant Elkins.”

  Bryce stood uncharacteristically still. Icheb wondered at his apparent shock but forged ahead. “I found a significant number of violations, which I cited. I’ve gone back twice with modified versions of my review, each time highlighting fewer deficiencies, and I’ve still been met with complete disregard by O’Donnell. I don’t understand it. Doesn’t he want to know if his chief engineer is comporting himself according to Starfleet’s standards?”

  “I doubt it,” Bryce replied.

  “I understand O’Donnell’s command style is quite unusual, but—”

  “It’s got nothing to do with O’Donnell, Icheb. Do you know who Lieutenant Elkins is?”

  “He is Demeter’s chief engineer.”

  Bryce shook his head and perched himself on the side of the desk.

  “Garvin Elkins created Demeter. He’s actually the father of the whole Theophrastus-class. He’s been one of the Federation’s most innovative starship designers and advanced propulsion theorists since before we were born.”

  “Then he should be well acquainted with Starfleet regulations.”

  “I didn’t say Starfleet’s. I said the Federation’s. Elkins washed out of the Academy as a plebe. I only know about him because I had to do a paper on Vulcan starship design in my third year at the Academy.”

  “Professor Grilim?”

  “Professor Saspari.”

  “Saspari’s course did not come highly recommended. My advisor suggested that Grilim would be more challenging.”

  “That depends on what you consider a challenge, Icheb. Not all of the Federation’s brightest lights serve in Starfleet. Some of the most innovative thinkers just don’t fit there. They’re not good at following orders. They can’t handle the bureaucracy. Change happens inside Starfleet at a glacial pace, which makes sense. We’re out on the front lines exploring and defending the Federation. We go with what we know works.

  “Guys like Elkins, and O’Donnell for that matter, can’t help but think differently. It’s how they’re wired. Admiral Batiste had to drag O’Donnell back to active duty kicking and screaming and it’s my understanding that O’Donnell used that leverage to get Elkins a field commission because he wasn’t coming out here without him. They’ve worked together for years. Every time O’Donnell needed something Starfleet couldn’t deliver in a timely manner, he got it from Elkins.”

  “Elkins is that good?”

  Bryce replied with an exaggerated nod. “Demeter is a thing of beauty. Elkins originally created a number of vessels with her unique detachable ring-propulsion design based on a Vulcan/Andorian paradigm, but he’s taken them to a whole new level. He brought their offensive and defensive capabilities up to Starfleet’s specs, but Demeter’s primary purpose is transport of multiple exotic life-forms. The environmental systems on that ship are more complex than anything Vesta has. Every individual bay can be discretely optimized to handle even the most extreme configurations. That unique massive port integrated into the hull is basically an interstellar greenhouse, designed to collect radiant particles and then simulate precise light conditions on a variety of planets. I’d bet my life Demeter could safely carry a small singularity in one of her holds if she needed to. And that’s not the half of it. Elkins has been tinkering with exotic propulsion designs his entire life. He was theorizing about intergalactic warp drives before Starfleet even started thinking about slipstream. He was the one who integrated the slipstream assembly for Demeter because Starfleet didn’t have any other vessels on the drawing board at the time that could also accommodate the rest of Demeter’s mission profile. I’m telling you, the man is amazing.”

  “But he is not amazing enough to withstand a routine performance evaluation by an ensign?”

  “You’re missing the point. Elkins is never going to pass a Starfleet review because he’s not trying to. He’s running systems on that ship that O’Donnell’s mission directives require but that we haven’t even developed standa
rd protocols for because Elkins just invented them. Starfleet trusts him to keep Demeter’s crew safe, but she is classified as an experimental vessel for a reason. You can’t rate her based on our best practices. That’s not her purpose. Elkins’s job is to push the envelope. We’re lucky to have the chance to watch him do it up close. Commander O’Donnell didn’t deny you access to Elkins because he was offended by your review. He probably just didn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of somebody who has already forgotten more about how starships work than we’ve had time to learn yet.”

  “Then why did Commander Torres ask me to perform an efficiency evaluation on Demeter?”

  Bryce shrugged. “I don’t know how much time she’s spent with Elkins yet. She tends to get involved when there are problems, and Demeter hasn’t had any Elkins couldn’t solve all by himself. Besides, she’s never really struck me as a stickler for protocol. She’s a bit of an outside-the-box thinker, isn’t she?”

  Icheb nodded.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. Let it go. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is. Until I’m as good as Elkins, I’m relying on you to keep me in line.”

  “Thanks, Bryce.”

  Phinn extracted a promise from Icheb to join his staff for drinks at the end of beta shift before departing. As soon as he was gone, Icheb pulled up everything in Voyager’s database about Lieutenant Elkins and began to study it.

  • • •

  Kathryn Janeway hadn’t witnessed the entirety of the conversation between Commander Tuvok and Dayne that had ended with the Krenim beaten to a bloody pulp. But she had heard his last words.

  She’s dead. I couldn’t save her. Too great a risk.

  And she had seen the look in Dayne’s eyes before he escaped.

  The pity.

  It had not been possible to speak alone with Tuvok since then. After spending a few hours in Vesta’s sickbay following her rescue from the cavern, she regrouped with the Rilnar officers that had survived the island attack and taken charge of identifying the handful of Rilnar prisoners that Farkas had transported to safety before the normal flow of time resumed. After testifying against Limlesh at Colonial Command’s debriefing, his commission had been rescinded pending a tribunal for treason. She had resigned her position as denzit, ceding it to Tilzitar Cabriot. She had facilitated Cabriot’s communications with Rilnar Colonial Command and been present for his first meetings with the Rilnar leadership on Sormana. She had been there when Admiral Janeway had met with all of the relevant parties and confirmed that Servitor Silbrit had been essential in preventing the destruction of Sormana. She had made certain that everyone who would have a hand in Sormana’s future was moving forward with all of the relevant facts at their disposal and had spoken as passionately as she could about the need to end all hostilities and focus on the much greater Krenim threat that faced both the Rilnar and Zahl.

  She had done everything she could possibly do to avoid confronting the fact that the life she had chosen for herself on Sormana had been based on a lie. The only hope that had sustained her over the years, reunion with Dayne and her daughter, was never going to happen.

  She reached the doors of Tuvok’s quarters and almost retraced her steps to the transporter room. She knew what he would tell her. She didn’t really need to hear it.

  Still . . .

  Her hand shook as she raised it to activate the door chime. Before she could do so, the door slid open and Tuvok stood before her, staring at her with absolute serenity. “Please come in, Kathryn.”

  “How did you know . . . ?”

  “I have been expecting you.”

  He stepped back to allow her to enter. She did so and turned back to face him as the door shut. Studying him briefly, she sensed a subtle change in him. He had always excelled at masking his emotions, but she had known him long enough to realize when they were first reunited on Sormana that something was troubling him. When he had finally opened up to her about the death of his son, the pieces of that puzzle had fallen into place.

  Nothing had changed in the last few weeks. His son was still dead. Evil had been given a new face, a Krenim face. The future was as uncertain as ever.

  But Tuvok was different.

  “Do you require confirmation of the intelligence I received from Agent Dayne?” Tuvok asked as she stared at him curiously.

  Kathryn’s throat was suddenly dry. The words were there, hanging between them, but she could not bring herself to say them.

  Tuvok waited patiently.

  Finally she croaked, “She’s dead.”

  A subtle nod ended her world.

  • • •

  Chakotay had ordered Tuvok to return to Voyager. Although he had been questioned repeatedly, along with Kim and Seven, about their mission on the island, the captain had not mentioned Tuvok’s complete loss of control in the cavern, his assault on Dayne, nor had he asked about Kathryn’s child. Tuvok expected an official reprimand on his record. Had Chakotay chosen to bring charges against him for conduct unbecoming, Tuvok would have accepted any disciplinary action deemed appropriate. The only thing Chakotay had done thus far was to limit Tuvok’s duties to the required debriefing sessions. Otherwise, Tuvok had been left alone in his quarters.

  Tuvok did not mind. He had a great deal to consider and the solitude Chakotay had granted him was exactly what he required. He had come to believe that his lapse in the cavern was a sign that the control he thought he had regained over the last several months had been an illusion. He had been unable to repress the primal emotion that had overtaken him when Dayne had appeared before him. Tuvok had witnessed atrocities in his years of service, but none—apart from his son’s death—had so thoroughly shattered a lifetime of logic and emotional control. What Dayne had done had offended Tuvok’s essential being. Even before he had confirmed the death of the denzit’s child, the sheer tonnage of Dayne’s sins had demanded retribution.

  Dayne might have deserved to suffer as he had made Kathryn suffer. He had been revealed as an agent of pure evil. Tuvok understood now that his true complaint had not been with Dayne but with the Borg. He was seeking vengeance, and vengeance was not Vulcan.

  The emotions Tuvok had failed to control required release. Tuvok wrongly believed that to lose his rage was to lose Elieth. Misplaced though the ultimate focal point was, the act of allowing the rage, torment, and deep sorrow to move through and out of him had been a cleansing act, a necessary purging.

  Elieth was dead.

  This thought, once the sword point that goaded him, had now lost its potency. All that was true and honorable in his son’s life and death was clearer than it had been at any time. It was now possible to think of Elieth without simultaneously battling blinding rage. His son had lived a useful life. His death was not a pointless one, certainly not to Elieth.

  For too long, the application of reason and logic to his unruly thoughts had been a painstaking process. Now, embracing Surak’s teachings became a healing balm. It was far too soon to believe that he had accepted Elieth’s death. But finally, he knew that it would be possible.

  Kathryn’s struggle was just beginning. He wanted to assist her as best he could. He had waited patiently for her to come to him, knowing that she would in her own time and that allowing her to make that choice was essential. Acceptance could not be forced upon her any more than those who loved Tuvok had been able to guide him toward it before he was ready.

  Kathryn had fallen to the deck before him. He knelt beside her, allowing her wails of despair to echo throughout his quarters. The violence of them did not trouble his peace, nor did they awaken darker thoughts within him. They simply were.

  Eventually, she reached for him. Despite his deeply ingrained reluctance to engage in physical expressions of emotions with non-Vulcans, he opened his arms to her and allowed her to draw from his strength what she required. He was a safe place, a fellow traveler on this road. The only comfort he could offer was his presence, his companionship.

  Finally, she
began to regain a modicum of control. She pulled herself free of him and settled herself on the deck, breathing deeply and allowing less powerful waves of anguish to wash over her.

  “I didn’t know . . .” she began.

  Tuvok waited for her to continue.

  “I didn’t know he had so much evil in him. He was not the man I thought he was. But even if he could not love me, how could she have meant so little to him?”

  As this reality was as alien to Tuvok as it was to Kathryn, he did not have an immediate answer beyond, “I do not know.”

  “I’m never going to see him again.”

  “I agree that it is unlikely.”

  “The way he looked at me . . .” She took a deep, ragged breath before continuing. “. . . I saw him then, for the first time . . . who he really is.”

  “It is alarming to witness our proficiency in hiding our true selves from one another. His motivation must have been incredibly powerful to have been able to convince you that he was worthy of your trust and regard when that was never the case.”

  “Whatever she did to him—your Admiral Janeway—he can’t forgive it.”

  “There is nothing anyone could have done to him to warrant the depravity he displayed. His sociopathic need to avenge himself on her and you has nothing to do with your choices or the admiral’s. They go much deeper and I doubt we will ever acquire sufficient data to understand them in all of their complexity.”

  A grimace traipsed across her face. “You almost killed him.”

  Tuvok nodded, unrepentant.

  “Was that for me?”

  “It was for me.”

  Kathryn smiled faintly.

  “So what do we do now? How do we continue to live in a universe that is so cruel?”

  “There are but two choices, both of them painful. We may choose further conflict. We may seek vengeance on those who have wronged us and perpetuate the cycle of violence that creates men like Dayne.

  “Or we may choose the harder road of learning to accept and forgive them.”

  Kathryn started as if he had slapped her.