Ghost Dance

by Christie Golden

  His neck cramped. He took a deep breath and slowly climbed back up to a seated position, edging closer to the wet trunk. Again the branch creaked under him, and Paris threw his arms around the solidity of the tree’s trunk.

  He thought he’d just stay there awhile, to make certain that the danger had passed. Dawn wasn’t that far off, anyway.

  * * *

  Dawn was, as it turned out, several hours away. When the sky finally began to lighten, Paris deemed it safe enough to climb down. His body, stiff from fear and its cramped position, protested as he descended. He hadn’t thought he was all that far off the ground when Mama and Junior were down at the base of the tree, but now he saw he was several yards away from the solidity of the earth, closer to the canopy than the ground. Now that one of the suns was beginning to dispel the darkness, he could even glimpse the thatched roofs of the village huts. In the dark, they had looked like just so much foliage.

  He made his way down carefully, slipping once or twice, and felt gratitude sweep through him. He almost laughed aloud as his feet finally touched that soggy, wonderful soil.

  When he emerged from the rain forest, he found the village in an uproar. People were crying, others were running with grim looks on their faces. Paris swore under his breath and began to run himself.

  Everyone stopped when they saw him approach. Paris’s pace faltered. He spotted Soliss, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

  “Soliss, what’s happened?”

  “You are still here,” said Soliss.

  “Of course I am,” Paris replied. The villagers were starting to move away from him, slowly, as if he were dangerous. “Look, what’s going on?”

  “Where were you?” It was Winnif, and the challenge was unexpected. Her eyes were swollen from crying.

  “Last night I had to—you know. I went to the edge of the forest and I got lost. I somehow got between an iislak and her baby and she treed me for the rest of the night. I can take you to the tree, if you’d like. The claw marks are this long. And why are you demanding to know where I was, anyway? What the hell has happened?”

  Grimly, Soliss answered him, and Tom wished he hadn’t.

  “Chakotay is gone and Matroci is dead.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  TORRES COULDN’T REMEMBER EVER HAVING SLEPT SO deeply. It seemed as though she had just lain down when the computer woke her at 0600. Her whole body ached as she sat up and stretched. A slight pang went through her as her gaze fell on the empty half of the bed.

  Tom. Oh, how she missed him. Missed his wisecracks, his last-minute, frantic, but usually successful attempts at romancing her, the rough-but-sweet physical encounters. More than anything, she missed waking up beside him, seeing his face relaxed in sleep and wreathed in innocence, looking more like a boy’s than a man’s.

  If only they knew what had happened to him. Most of the time, B’Elanna had mentally integrated Khala as a member of the crew. But now and then, with no warning, she would stop and regard the blue woman with fresh eyes. She was an alien, with a strangeness to her that they had never encountered before, and she was here, and Tom was gone.

  And Chakotay. Once an object of misplaced romantic attraction, he was now the dearest friend B’Elanna had in the world. Captain Janeway inspired fierce loyalty and absolute trust, but Chakotay had an ease about him that relaxed the crew in stressful times. Everyone was suffering because of his absence.

  “Dammit,” she said angrily. She rose and went to the shower. To distract herself from missing Tom and Chakotay—a fruitless exercise that did nothing but cause her heart to contract and distract her from the true business at hand—she turned her attention to the puzzle they’d been working on last night.

  That Damned Ball could extract dark matter from transported objects. It could extract it from any plant or any inanimate material placed within the sphere of radiation it created when supplied with sufficient energy. But the radiation would not extract dark matter from humans.

  Sufficient energy were the two key words. Torres stepped out of the shower and began to dress. The transporter could provide only a certain amount of energy, and they’d utilized it to the fullest yesterday.

  When it occurred to her, Torres literally groaned. It was so obvious, why hadn’t she seen it before? Why hadn’t anyone seen it before?

  She struggled into her uniform, pulled on her boots, carelessly ran a comb through her wild locks, and almost ran to engineering.

  “The warp core,” she said as she entered. Everyone turned to stare at her. Seven was there, as usual, and Khala and Telek were just coming in.

  “What about the warp core?” asked Khala. Her eyes widened. “The warp bubble—it is holding stable, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, yes,” said Torres impatiently. “For the energy. To boost the circumference of the radiation sphere around That Damned Ball. We need to use the warp core.”

  * * *

  Torres ordered strong coffee, as close an approximation to fresh-brewed as Neelix could make, sent down from the mess hall. She was both annoyed and gladdened to see that Neelix had also sent down some delicious-looking pastries, conveniently cut into bite-sized pieces for a quick gulp now and then.

  “Are these—” began Khala, then she stopped herself. “No, I won’t ask. It doesn’t really matter whether they’re replicated or not, and if I don’t ask, I won’t be able to tell.” With an incongruously grim expression, she picked up a piece of pastry and ate it.

  Torres bit back an angry retort. She had, frankly, had it up to here with Khala’s reluctance to eat food if it wasn’t replicated. Food was food, and if it tasted good and it nourished you, who the hell cared if it came out of the dirt or a replicator? But it was clear that Khala was trying. Which was good, because the next time the alien woman complained about Voyager’s fresh food, Torres wasn’t sure if she could resist shoving it in Khala’s face.

  They ate and drank and talked excitedly with their mouths full. They ran some simulations, and it looked as if it could work. There was only one slight problem.

  “We’re going to have to take the warp core offline,” Torres stated in a staff meeting a few hours later. “And probably the shields will have to be down as well.”

  Janeway raised an eyebrow. “I see,” she said.

  “Everything seems to point toward a direct proportional increase,” said Telek. “If we were to attempt to cleanse a ship, for instance, we would require less power than if we were attempting to cleanse a whole planet.”

  “I do not like the idea of our vessel being so vulnerable,” said Tuvok.

  “None of us does,” said Janeway. “But it sounds like that’s a risk we’re going to have to take in order to completely accomplish our goal. Give it to me in detail, B’Elanna.”

  Torres did. Once the warp core was off-line, all its energy could be harnessed in the purple sphere. The radiation would increase proportionally. The more energy, the larger the sphere. In theory, with enough energy, the sphere could expand thousands of kilometers, easily large enough to embrace an entire moon or planet. The radiation would purge the planet’s plants, inanimate objects, and lesser life forms of dark matter; they would have to transport the rest. It would be time-consuming, risky to the ship, and exhausting—but it was doable.

  “We’ll need to run some tests,” finished Torres, “and engineering is continuing to transport the Kwaisi.”

  “Ulaahn has been asking me about his vessels and his homeworld,” said Janeway. “I’ve been stalling until now. The holodeck is of course at your disposal for any simulations you need to run. The minute you think you’ve got something, let me know. We can try our first test on Ulaahn’s ship.”

  As she rose, anxious to begin the holodeck simulations, B’Elanna’s gaze fell on Harry. He had never been particularly good at hiding his emotions, and he looked like a kicked puppy right now. Khala was seated as far away from him as she could get and still be in the room, and her attempt at casualness
around Harry only revealed that whatever was going on, or not going on, between them was anything but casual.

  Torres swallowed her impatience and lingered long enough to speak to Harry. “What’s up, Starfleet? You look pretty—” Torres bit her lip. She had been about to say “blue,” but that was clearly not a good color to remind Harry of right now.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Kimspeak for something really bad is going on and I’m in a lot of pain.

  “Lunch at twelve hundred,” said Torres. “On me.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “That’s an order, Ensign. I outrank you, remember?” She tried to soften it, make it teasing, but Harry was too miserable for any jest to reach. For the millionth time, she wished Tom were here, and not just for her own selfish pleasure. Tom could get a smile out of Harry when no one else could. Kim was not smiling as he nodded and pushed past her.

  * * *

  Janeway was beginning to think she liked Ulaahn better with dark matter inside him.

  He had been suicidal and despondent, but there had been a sorrow about him and a sluggishness that Janeway had been able to use to both their advantages. Now, freed of the influence of dark matter on his mind and body, Ulaahn was brash, all quick moves and loud demands. As he stormed onto her bridge, head held high, Janeway braced herself.

  “Captain Janeway,” said Ulaahn, “You must hasten this process. A full fifth of my crew are still infected with dark matter. And my ships! When are you going to purge my ships? There is an entire system affected with this dreadful plague, and we have to reach them and help them!”

  “Commander Ulaahn,” replied Janeway in as soft and mild a voice as she was capable of at that moment, “We are working as fast as we can within safety parameters. Chief Engineer Torres—”

  “Is frustratingly slow and inefficient!” railed Ulaahn. “And what kind of safety parameters are we talking about? Are you telling me you don’t know what you’re doing?”

  “I’m telling you,” said Janeway, stretching her lips into a grimace of a smile, “that we are working with alien technology that is almost as new to us as it is to you. The last thing we want is casualties from rushing the process.”

  “Dead is dead, Captain,” said Ulaahn, stepping in close and trying to use his height to appear more imposing. “I doubt that a corpse cares if it dies because of an error or because the dark matter has ravaged its brain!”

  “Perhaps not.” Oh, her voice was so calm. “But the living being who is next in line might care a great deal. What you are failing to realize, Commander, is that my ship, too, is infected; some of my crew still are. We are giving your people priority because the infection is more severe. It is in all of our interests to find the fastest, safest way to rid everything we can of the dark matter. Raising your voice and attempting crude bullying tactics will not make this work go any faster.”

  His eyes blazed, but she continued. She lifted her chin and narrowed her blue eyes. “You are a guest aboard my ship. Your people are guests. We are doing everything we can, as quickly as we can, to help you and your people survive. I suggest you behave accordingly.”

  She heard the soft movement behind her as Tuvok moved a few feet away from his station. It was not an overtly menacing move, just a subtle reminder of Tuvok’s position as chief of security. Ulaahn glanced from one to the other and growled low in his throat. He threw himself down into Chakotay’s chair and sat, sullen and silent.

  It was not exactly what Janeway had wanted, but it would do.

  “Engineering to Janeway.”

  “Go ahead, Torres.” It was a welcome and timely interruption.

  “The warp core is now off-line. We’re ready to proceed with the test on your order.”

  Janeway glanced over at her Kwaisi counterpart. “Commander? May we begin the test?”

  He frowned. “Of course, test your unknown device out on my vessel, not your own.”

  “Well,” said Janeway, as if she were talking to a child, “actually, both vessels will be affected. The radiation sphere will have to be larger than Voyager if it’s to be large enough to engulf your vessel.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand, go ahead.”

  Janeway smothered a smile. “You may proceed, Lieutenant.” Her voice was calm, but inside she was tense. What if something went wrong? Not only with Ulaahn’s ship, but with their own? Tuvok had been right. Bringing the warp core off-line and having to lower their shields made them incredibly vulnerable. But there seemed to be no other choice.

  The shields were already down; she did not have to issue the order. The bridge was utterly silent as everyone stared at the screen. In the center was a vacant vessel, oblong and pale cream-gray. If all went well, it would look identical after this test, except it would be infinitely safer for living things to inhabit. And they would be that much closer to accomplishing a Herculean task.

  “On your order, Captain,” said Torres.

  “Do it,” said Janeway.

  * * *

  Torres swallowed, and pressed the control.

  The horrible sound screeched forth and Torres closed her eyes against the accompanying brightness. “Seven, report.”

  Seven had to shout to be heard over the noise. “The radiation sphere is increasing by six percent … thirty-six … one thousand two hundred ninety-six … it is now engulfing the entire ship. The dark matter within the affected area has been contained within the orb.”

  “So far, so good,” yelled Torres.

  “The sphere is expanding. It has crossed the distance to the Kwaisi vessel. It is presently engulfing the vessel.”

  How Torres wished she could see it, but even the experimental goggles the Doctor had constructed didn’t help. She’d just have to experience it vicariously through Seven. Her heart was racing, and she realized her palms were wet.

  Please let this work.

  The light began to fade, and the awful sound ceased. Torres blinked.

  “Did it work?” asked Khala anxiously.

  Seven did not reply at once. “The amount of dark matter contained within the warp-core bubble has increased eighteen point seven percent. There is no trace of dark matter within the targeted Kwaisi vessel.” She looked up, fixed Khala with her cool gaze, and said, “The attempt appears to have been successful.”

  There were some very unprofessional sounds of whooping from engineering, and Torres thought even Seven seemed to smile a little.

  * * *

  Harry Kim captured a piece of broccoli with his chopsticks. “So then the captain says, ‘Well, Commander, it seems as though within a few hours we’ll have your crew and vessels back in perfect working order.’ And Ulaahn says, ‘Well, Captain, it’s about time.’ ”

  “What a jerk,” said Torres, with feeling. “We’re working around the clock here to help him out and that’s the best he can do?”

  “He’s been following the captain around ever since we beamed him over, yelling at her to hurry up, make everything all right again. Frankly, I’m going to be delighted when we see the last of the Kwaisi.”

  Torres took a big bite of her corned-beef sandwich and wiped her mouth. “I don’t know. Some of them have been very cooperative and polite. It may just be Ulaahn. Can’t make snap judgments about a whole species based on a single individual, Harry. You know that.”

  Which was apparently the wrong thing to say. Harry froze in mid-chew. He deliberately swallowed the bite, folded his napkin, and rose. He was only halfway through his meal.

  Torres mentally kicked herself. She reached out and gently closed her hand around his wrist. “Neelix worked hard on making that Szechwan yruss-and-broccoli for you, Harry. Go ahead and finish it.”

  “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  “Then I’ll have some,” she said casually, leaning over the table to spear up a slice of surprisingly tasty yruss. She knew this bothered Harry and was pleased when he frowned and said, “Hey, cut it out.”

  Smiling, she popped the bite in her mou
th and chewed. “Mmm. I may have to have some of that next time he makes it. So come on, Harry, what’s wrong? I know you’re interested in Khala, and while I admit she’s got some strange food preferences, she seems nice enough. She certainly seems interested in you.”

  “Seems is the operative word,” said Harry, pitching his voice soft. He looked around to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear. “I just don’t get this whole caste system her people have. It seems so odd, so arbitrary.”

  “Come on, Starfleet, we’ve encountered odder customs before. This whole journey has been an exercise in cultural appreciation. Remember the Karakish? The ones with the—”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, laughing a little now. His cheeks were red. Torres grinned and picked up her sandwich. “If she were just a guest on the ship, it’d be one thing. But we don’t know how long she’s going to be here, B’Elanna. And she’s more than just another visitor to the ship. I really care about her. And she—she can’t understand me at all.”

  Torres thought about how Khala brightened every time Harry dropped by engineering. She thought about the conversation she’d accidentally overheard, when Khala had shyly asked Seven about appropriate dress for her dinner with Harry. She thought about how often poor Kim had gotten his heart broken and how nice it would be to see him with someone who might actually be worthy of him.

  “What doesn’t she understand?” she asked, very gently.

  Harry glanced down at his hands for a moment, then up at Torres. “My music. She didn’t even know what it was when I talked about it.”

  “Did you play for her?”

  Miserably, he nodded. “I wish I hadn’t. B’Elanna, you wouldn’t believe it. She got this look on her face like she was going to be sick. And that’s what she called it. Sick. Wrong. And then she just walked out.”

  Torres was horrified. “Harry, I’m so sorry. Seems like we have two alien jerks on this vessel.”

  He shook his dark head. “No, no, she wasn’t trying to be mean. She was crying when she left. But I can’t avoid her. She’s here for who knows how long. And she thinks my favorite thing in the world to do is sick.” He managed a wan smile. “Tom was right. I sure can pick them, can’t I? Thanks for lunch, B’Elanna, and … for talking with me. Sorry I couldn’t enjoy it more.”