Star Trek: Voyager: Children of the Storm

by Kirsten Beyer

  Drafar’s eyebrow ridge lifted in what appeared to be disbelief, but he wisely held his peace.

  “Well,” he said with a put-upon sigh, “this is one of six auxiliary shuttlebays, fairly standard.” His long arm gestured for her to take in the large space dotted with a few vessels and crewmen busily tending to them.

  As they began to walk toward the interior door, B’Elanna found a question blurting forth before she had the good sense to consider how far she wanted to push Drafar at their first meeting.

  “Do you have any children of your own?”

  Drafar stopped, as if the thought was offensive to him.

  “I’m a Starfleet officer,” he replied, as if that settled the matter.

  “More officers than I can count have children while serving in Starfleet,” B’Elanna replied a little too defensively.

  “Of course they do,” Drafar agreed too readily. “I am simply not one of them. I meant no offense, of course.”

  But B’Elanna didn’t believe him for a moment.

  Throughout the rest of the tour, which took almost an hour, B’Elanna kept her tone and questions purely professional. A gnawing sense lingered throughout that Drafar was humoring her rather than showing proper deference or even respect to her position. Though she was not his superior officer in rank or position, she had expected to find a spirit of kinship with a fellow engineer and at least acknowledgment of her position as fleet chief. While the bridge, main engineering bay, medical facilities, and crew quarters were all quite standard, B’Elanna had never been aboard a ship with the industrial capabilities of Achilles. They possessed five replicators large enough to manufacture parts and technology usually reserved for starbases or colonization ships. B’Elanna surmised they could rebuild every ship in the fleet from scratch should the need arise.

  Unfortunately, B’Elanna found her estimation of Drafar sinking as they progressed. It wasn’t so much what he said as how he said it. Few things soured B’Elanna’s stomach like condescension, and she swallowed one mouthful of bile after another before she reached the end of her rope.

  Drafar’s patience seemed to end when they had completed a review of Achilles’ two largest cargo holds. For now, they were mostly unused, apart from items that were difficult or impossible to replicate, such as benamite crystals and bioneural gel-packs.

  The commander ushered her outside the last cargo bay and began to direct their steps back toward the turbolift. Though the wide hallway was dimly lit to conserve power, a modification Drafar had pointed out to her, she couldn’t help but note a third large door at the end of the hall that he had not referenced. B’Elanna quickly called up a mental image of the schematics of the vessel and decided that another storage bay must lie beyond those doors, and would have to be at least as large, if not larger, than the two cargo bays she had just seen.

  “Excuse me, Commander,” she said calmly, “what’s back there?”

  “More storage.” Drafar smiled, though B’Elanna noted that he hastened his steps in the opposite direction.

  Instinct rooted B’Elanna’s feet to the deck.

  “Shall we?” she asked in a tone that was more an order than a request.

  Drafar turned to face her, and for the first time, B’Elanna caught a chill in his presence.

  “The contents of that bay are classified,” he said simply. “For now, our tour is at an end.”

  Like hell.

  “I beg to differ, Commander,” she said, standing her ground.

  “I mean no disrespect, Commander Torres,” Drafar replied amiably. “I was not advised, however, that you were cleared to view the contents of that bay.”

  “We can fix that,” B’Elanna decided. Tapping her combadge, she said, “This is Fleet Chief Torres to the bridge.”

  “Go ahead, sir.”

  “Please hail Captain Eden aboard Voyager.”

  “Just a moment.”

  In the brief seconds that passed until Eden was patched through, B’Elanna’s eyes never left Drafar’s.

  “This is Eden.”

  “Sorry to trouble you, Captain, but I’m outside what Commander Drafar tells me is a classified storage bay aboard Achilles and he is refusing to show me its contents. I assume my position grants me clearance.”

  After a brief pause, during which B’Elanna believed she heard Eden sigh, the captain replied, “Of course. Commander Drafar, please escort Chief Torres anywhere she wishes to go. Eden out.”

  Satisfied with this small victory, B’Elanna nodded toward the end of the hall, and Drafar dutifully stepped ahead of her. When he reached the door, he entered a command code and endured a brief biometric scan before the doors hissed open.

  B’Elanna stepped inside and discovered a cargo bay as vast as she had anticipated. What she had not suspected, however, was the nature of the bay’s contents. The moment she laid eyes on it, her jaw dropped.

  U.S.S. VOYAGER

  Captain Eden was curious as to what B’Elanna would make of Achilles’ most sensitive cargo, but she set the thought aside and returned to the much more pressing matter at hand. Quirinal, Planck, and Demeter were now a full twenty-four hours overdue. The concern she felt for all of them was mirrored back to her in the faces of Captains Chakotay, Dasht, Itak, and Chan.

  “All right, gentlemen,” Eden said, “we’ve got three overdue ships. Although our next mission priority once we had regrouped was to continue twenty light-years beyond our present position toward another sector once dominated by the Borg, I’m scrapping that for now. Clearly we need to mount a rescue mission. I’m open to your suggestions as to the complement of that mission, though Voyager’s participation is mandatory.”

  “Why is that?” Chakotay asked, out of seemingly genuine curiosity.

  “I intend to lead the rescue mission,” Eden replied flatly, suddenly wondering if she was going to face a barrage of reminders that as fleet commander, her duty was to allow everyone else to place themselves in harm’s way before herself.

  “Fair enough,” Chakotay surprised her by replying.

  “I suppose the real question is how many ships we want to risk,” Dasht said simply. “Voyager and Esquiline are best equipped to handle themselves in a fight, but I’m not sure you want to leave Galen and Achilles to fend for themselves out here.”

  “Curie stands ready to defend them, should the need arise,” Chan interjected solemnly.

  “As does Hawking,” added Itak.

  “Curie and Hawking are science vessels, Merian class,” Chakotay said, treading lightly. “While your vessels and crew are in an excellent position to fight your own battles, defending two other vessels, particularly one as large as Achilles, might be too much to ask.”

  Chan favored Chakotay with a hard stare before replying, “Perhaps. However, if that is Captain Eden’s order, I will do my best.”

  “As we all would,” Itak echoed, “but that does not make it the most logical choice.”

  “Send Esquiline,” Dasht said decisively.

  “Why?” Eden asked, curious to hear his justification.

  “We’re five times the size of Voyager.”

  “So is the Quirinal,” Chakotay reminded them.

  Dasht’s spine stiffened, but he went on, “If we’re assuming that any or all of the missing ships are damaged, Esquiline is the only ship currently available that could relocate the crews of all three vessels should the need arise.”

  “But if we assume they were destroyed—” Chan began.

  “We’re not,” Eden cut him off.

  Chakotay’s eyes darted back and forth between Dasht and Chan.

  “The Children of the Storm,” Chakotay began. “We know too little about them to guess what may have become of our ships if they encountered them. Naturally, the fact that they were able to handily defeat the Borg is cause for concern, but they did instigate contact with Captain Dax’s vessel. It’s still conceivable that they did the same with our ships and that our fellow commanders have been delayed by their
investigations or cultural exchange.”

  “Not possible,” Eden declared.

  “Why not?”

  “Their mission parameters were clear. They were given twenty days to complete their studies and rejoin the fleet. They would not simply have lost track of time or decided on their own to extend their stay.”

  “If their discoveries were interesting enough …” Chakotay argued.

  “This isn’t Voyager’s maiden trek through the Delta Quadrant,” Eden insisted too hotly. “We don’t alter our plans on a whim. There’s too much at stake. and Captain Farkas, Captain T’Mar, and Commander O’Donnell were clear about that before they separated from the rest of the fleet.”

  Though Chakotay’s eyes hardened a little at this ungenerous characterization of Voyager, he remained silent.

  “The protocol was clear,” Eden continued. “Even if they successfully made contact and needed to extend their mission, one or more of the ships should have returned to advise us of that. All three ships are overdue, and we have to assume they are unable to return to our position.”

  “Without further data to consider, and given your determination to personally assume command of our efforts,” Chakotay said evenly, “it seems only logical, then, that Voyager should go after them alone. We can get close enough to their intended coordinates to scan for them without disturbing the Children of the Storm. If we find no compelling evidence of their presence or their destruction, we should regroup here and widen our search, utilizing all of the vessels we have at our disposal.”

  “I’d be happy to have my astrometrics department begin an analysis of what is known of that area so that, should the need arise, we wouldn’t lose time expanding the search when you return, Captain,” Dasht offered.

  “My xenobiologists have prepared a rudimentary analysis of the Children of the Storm, based upon Aventine’s logs, and have already calculated that it is unlikely that their territory would extend beyond a radius of five light-years from the system surrounded by the Borg debris,” Chan added.

  Eden nodded. “I agree with Chakotay. Should the three ships require additional repair or medical assistance, we can call in Achilles and Galen once they are located. In the interim, I’d rather not risk Esquiline, Hawking, or Curie. You should make preparations for a wider search, if Voyager returns empty-handed.”

  “And if Voyager does not return at all?” Dasht asked delicately.

  “We will depart in five hours,” Eden replied. “If we have not returned or made contact within the next seventy-two, you should instigate a search pattern that remains well clear of the territory of the Children of the Storm. If that search reveals nothing further within the next seventy-two hours, you should advise Starfleet Command and proceed to our next scheduled coordinates. All of you have our mission priorities for the next four weeks in your databases. Follow them to the letter, and if we haven’t caught up with you by then, we’re not going to.”

  “Here’s hoping none of that becomes necessary and that we hear from one or all of the three ships in the next five hours,” Dasht said as optimistically as possible.

  Eden concurred, but wasn’t holding her breath. Something bad had happened to three of her ships. The only question in her mind now was how bad?

  “That’s it then,” Eden said, rising. Dasht, Itak, and Chan nodded as they headed for the door, but Chakotay remained seated.

  “I’ll advise you of any changes to these orders before we depart,” Eden instructed Dasht, Itak, and Chan, clearly dismissing them. She then turned back to Chakotay but remained on her feet.

  “Problem, Captain?”

  “No,” Chakotay replied. “I asked Seven if she could provide any tactical data regarding the Children of the Storm, and she told me that she has no knowledge of the species at all.”

  “That’s odd, isn’t it?”

  Chakotay nodded. “Given the age of the debris Aventine detected, the Borg’s encounters with the Children would have been well before Seven’s time, but you would think such a massive defeat would have lived forever in the Collective’s memory.”

  “Or at the very least some directive not to venture too near the Children’s territory,” Eden added.

  “Seven did say that it was possible the memories had been purged from the Collective.”

  “Why would they do that?” Eden asked.

  “The Borg liked to think of themselves as invincible and superior to all other species,” Chakotay replied. “Our evidence suggests the Borg were defeated on numerous occasions by the Children of the Storm. That knowledge could have created a cognitive dissonance the Collective might have had trouble reconciling.”

  “A memory the Borg couldn’t live with?”

  “An unpleasant thought, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say,” Eden replied, sighing.

  “Before we go out there, I’d like to know anything you can tell me about Farkas, T’Mar, and O’Donnell,” Chakotay went on.

  Eden collected her thoughts, preparing to choose her words carefully. “Farkas has been in command of six different ships in the last forty years. She’s as seasoned as they come and one of our most capable diplomats, which is why Quirinal was initially chosen to lead the hunt for the Children of the Storm.”

  Chakotay nodded for her to continue, his face a placid mask.

  “T’Mar is young, but good,” Eden went on. As much as she wanted to defend all of the choices Command had made in assembling the fleet, she didn’t think painting a pretty picture would serve either of them well. “What he lacks in experience, he makes up for with a record of conservative judgments. He’s not one to take risks, and with Farkas there to rein him in, he’s not my concern.”

  “That leaves O’Donnell,” Chakotay urged her on.

  Eden finally settled into her chair.

  “As contentious as the choice of who would command Voyager in your absence might have been,” she said, refusing to ignore any galloping elephants in the room, “it was nothing compared to the spirited debate surrounding Commander O’Donnell’s commission.”

  “Why was that?”

  “O’Donnell’s background is botanical genetics. There’s no one more highly regarded in the field. There was never any question that a ship designed to collect and analyze exotic biological specimens should have him on board.”

  “But not necessarily in command?” Chakotay rightly surmised.

  Eden nodded slowly. “He had seniority, and Willem insisted that after commanding his own research outpost for years, he should be in charge of Demeter. But he’s not a leader,” she finally admitted. “His first officer, Lieutenant Commander Atlee Fife, was selected with the understanding that the lion’s share of day-to-day command decisions would rest with him. Both O’Donnell and Fife knew what they were getting into when they accepted their positions, and Willem assured me it would work.”

  “Do you have reason to believe it’s not working?” Chakotay asked warily.

  “There were no issues that came to my attention while we were still in contact with Demeter,” she replied. “Willem led me to believe that everything was proceeding perfectly.”

  “Would he have lied to you?”

  “I can’t very well say no, can I?” she replied bitterly.

  “Let’s assume he didn’t, for the moment,” Chakotay said. “Although we both want to hope for the best here, if Demeter ran into trouble, the only question is, can O’Donnell handle himself in a fight?”

  “I don’t know,” Eden reluctantly admitted. “But Fife could.”

  Chakotay didn’t seem overly enthused by her estimation. “Okay,” he finally said, rising to depart.

  Eden quickly got to her feet. “I don’t want you to think badly of O’Donnell,” she said a little defensively. “The man’s a genius. And we are lucky to have him with us.”

  Chakotay stared hard at her. The intensity of his gaze took her slightly aback.

  “Permission to speak freely?” he asked.

  “Please
do,” Eden replied, steeling herself.

  “I don’t think you’re worried about my feelings about O’Donnell. I think you’re worried that I’m going to judge the rushed and perhaps less than well-thought-out manner in which the entire fleet was assembled so that Willem Batiste could use all of us for his personal agenda.”

  “This mission was in the planning stages for almost three years,” Eden pointed out.

  “A lot changed during those years, including the death of billions of people and thousands of Starfleet’s best,” Chakotay replied, not backing down. “As it stands now, you sent three ships out to make contact with one of the most dangerous species we’ve ever encountered, and two of the three commanding officers had no business being there. I’m not even sure they’re ready to be here.” After a brief pause, he managed to summon a little self-restraint. “Of course, when I say ‘you,’ I mean Admiral Batiste. I don’t hold you personally responsible for his choices, Captain.”

  “But I am responsible for cleaning up his messes,” Eden finished for him as it dawned on her how arduous a task that would be from this point forward. “And you shouldn’t hold yourself back on my account, Chakotay. If there was one person on this ship who might have been in a position to make Willem reconsider his choices, it was me, and I failed spectacularly to do so.”

  “Forgive me, but based on what little I know of you both, I seriously doubt that,” Chakotay replied a little sadly. “And you must not take all of this personally. Sometimes command means letting those under you do their jobs. This fleet needs you, Captain. Your choice to accompany Voyager on this mission is starting to feel like a personal quest for redemption. Whatever we’re going to find out there, it’s probably not going to be pretty, whether you’re there or not. If you remain here, and things don’t go well out there, at least the fleet won’t have lost almost half of its command staff to one questionable call.”