Star Trek: Voyager: Children of the Storm

by Kirsten Beyer

  “It’s an unbreakable knife that supposedly had the ability to cut through space and time,” Elkins clarified. “Although, come to think of it, a fine enough slice of benamite might do the trick.”

  O’Donnell’s face lit at the genuine possibility. “It would be hard enough …” he began.

  “And its crystal form would protect it from the energy shell without altering the shell’s harmonics.” Elkins sat back in his chair, obviously forging his imaginary knife. “It’s worth a try, Captain,” he finally agreed. “Probably take most of the day to construct it.”

  “Begging your pardons, sirs,” Fife broke in, “but you can’t honestly believe that the Children are going to let you get close enough to any of them to perform this ridiculous procedure.”

  “I’m hoping one of them will be curious enough to do just that,” O’Donnell replied. “And if they don’t, it will still have been worth the effort.” After a moment he added, “Look at it this way, Atlee. All I’ve ever wanted was to create new life-forms, and all you’ve ever wanted is to command a starship. By the end of the day, one of us is going to get our heart’s deepest desire. So cheer up.”

  Elkins chuckled and said, “With your permission, Captain, I’ve got some work to do.”

  “Get to it,” O’Donnell agreed. “Url and I are going to prepare everything else for my space walk. Let me know as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Aye, sir,” Elkins said and hurried from the room.

  “I trust there are no other objections?” O’Donnell asked.

  No one spoke, but Url, Falto, and Vincent looked at him with respectful awe. Fife cursed silently, realizing that O’Donnell might once again have outmaneuvered him. His only solace was his absolute certainty that once O’Donnell left the ship, the odds of his safe return were infinitesimal.

  Fifteen hours later, O’Donnell stood inside Demeter’s transporter room. Once he and Url had begun their preparations in earnest, the lieutenant had raised a simple question. Rather than risk the space walk, couldn’t O’Donnell attempt to inject his sample into the energy field surrounding the ship? O’Donnell had already considered the possibility, and confirmed that the field did not contain the same atmospheric balance as the individual spheres. His hybrid wouldn’t grow there.

  The suit was rigged with standard maneuvering thrusters and could withstand the vacuum of space for hours. Of course, no one intended this mission to take anywhere near that long. Transport coordinates had been set for a cluster of nearby spheres just off the starboard bow. If none of them altered course to intercept him once he appeared, it would take fifteen minutes or so for him to get close enough to perform the procedure. Personally, O’Donnell thought he knew the Children well enough by now to believe that as soon as they detected him, one or many spheres would converge on his position. He had packed several of his suit’s external pockets with seedlings in small soil containers to hopefully allay their concerns. If the children worked on the seedlings with the same force they applied to every other growing thing on Demeter it might be only minutes until those pockets burst and the small buds died of exposure. But if he could get close enough to a single sphere, all he would need was minutes.

  Elkins had run as many simulations as he dared with his final “knife.” Although the device he had created was more akin to a syringe tipped with a crystal needle, both he and O’Donnell took great pleasure in dubbing it “the subtle knife,” settling the invention’s name once and for all. O’Donnell did an hour’s worth of practice runs with the extensor Elkins had affixed to the knife. Its controls were delicate, and though it was attached directly to O’Donnell’s right hand, it took some doing to get used to activating the controls using the bulky fingers of the suit’s gloves.

  At long last, however, his preparations were complete. Before assisting the captain into his helmet, Url took a moment to say, “Thank you for this, Captain.”

  “Are you kidding?” O’Donnell replied. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “I’m not sure I would see it that way if I were headed out there,” Url replied honestly.

  “That’s because you haven’t been waiting twenty years for this day, Lieutenant.”

  Url nodded. “Safe travels, Captain. And if I don’t get the chance to say this later—”

  “Oh, we’re already tempting the fates tonight, Lieutenant,” O’Donnell cut him off. “Let’s not piss them off entirely by assuming we know their plans.”

  Url nodded in understanding as O’Donnell climbed up onto the pad.

  Once he was set, O’Donnell said simply, “Ready for transport.”

  As he activated the transporter, Url said softly, “It’s been an honor to serve with you, Captain.”

  Even had he been listening, O’Donnell would not have heard him, so concentrated was he on his own silent last words.

  For you, Alana, and for our daughter.

  Seconds later, O’Donnell’s stomach lurched as he began the process of acclimating to his new environment. He hadn’t bothered to share with his crew the fact that he hadn’t actually completed a space walk since his days at the Academy. Though it seemed like a lifetime ago, the initial sickening sensation came back to him quickly enough as he struggled to get some sort of bearing. Somewhere, probably behind him, Demeter hung in space. Its angle would have made it difficult to orient himself, so he focused instead on what seemed like the incredibly distant sight of a dozen spheres.

  Funny, they look bigger from out here, was his first coherent thought.

  His breath was coming too rapidly and he took a few moments to attempt to calm himself. The longer he waited, however, the less stable he felt, so he locked his eyes upon a single sphere and gingerly gave his maneuvering thrusters a small burst.

  The action sent him rushing forward, much more quickly than he had intended. He tensed his stomach muscles to avoid turning head over heels. After a few more bursts, he was still breathing too heavily, the sound creating a violent whoosh within his helmet, but he was starting to feel like he was getting the hang of his movements.

  The intended sphere was closer now, but not nearly close enough. He risked a longer burst, and this time, as he moved forward, the sphere and four of its companions obliged him by closing the distance between them. Once he had settled, he was well within range of his knife, and had only to raise his hand and begin the operation.

  He paused, however, at the sight of the spheres beginning to merge together. Fear and adrenaline shot through him. Every time he’d seen this in the past, it had meant only one thing.

  No, please, he thought—not for himself, but for the Children, and the precious gift he had brought them.

  Within what felt like seconds, the spheres had merged, forming one organism that truly dwarfed him. It moved inexorably toward him and he thought sadly, It seems I have failed you after all, my beloved.

  As the sphere came to rest before him, he heard Alana’s voice again for the first time in weeks.

  You haven’t, my love. Just breathe.

  An incredibly bright flash of light, accompanied by a distinct vibration that shook O’Donnell in his suit, caused him a moment of intense disorientation. When it had passed, he found he was surrounded by light. He took a moment to look around and saw that an energy shell like the one that sustained the sphere had enveloped him. It was not composed of the same atmosphere that the children shared—he could never have survived that. But it seemed as much like an invitation to continue his work as he was likely to get.

  Seconds later, an alarm in his helmet began to beep. He checked the display panel on his left arm and noted that the suit’s sensors had detected a shift in the atmosphere around him. Whatever it was that filled the space he now occupied, it was slowly beginning to degrade his suit.

  You might want to hurry, dearest, Alana warned.

  O’Donnell didn’t have to be told twice. Steadying himself, he raised his right arm and guided the subtle knife toward the section of the energy shell h
e now shared with the large sphere. Willing his arm to remain perfectly still, once he had achieved alignment, O’Donnell depressed the release, injecting dozens of living cells of Crateva religiosa-Kressari into their new home.

  He had no idea how long it might take the Children to realize what he’d done, but he hoped it would be soon. His suit beeped again, alerting him to the fact that the atmosphere that now engulfed him continued to compromise its integrity. He didn’t know if he had minutes or hours, but he honestly didn’t care. He had done what he came to do, and if he was to die now, at least he was no longer alone.

  Fife had watched O’Donnell’s progress with the rest of the senior officers and Lieutenant Elkins from Demeter’s bridge. When the spheres had begun to merge, he was certain O’Donnell’s misplaced trust was about to be clarified for everyone. He had been shocked by Url’s subsequent report that O’Donnell had been enveloped by an energy shell adjacent to the sphere, but was still very much alive.

  “It shouldn’t be long now,” Elkins said.

  “When do you think we’ll know if it worked?” Url asked.

  “As long as he’s still alive, there’s hope,” Elkins replied.

  Fife couldn’t have disagreed more.

  Minutes later, a shrill bleep broke the silence. Fife’s head swiveled instantly to face Url.

  “What is it?” he demanded.

  Url took a moment to check and recheck his display.

  “Lieutenant Url!” Fife shouted.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Url replied. “I just wanted to be sure. I’ve got a Federation signal, sir. They’re almost a light-year away, just outside the debris ring. But I think … no … I’m sure … it’s Voyager.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  STARDATE 58464.8

  U.S.S. VOYAGER

  As soon as the warp effect dispersed, Chakotay looked to Ensign B’Kar, who was now standing in for Lasren at ops.

  “Status, Ensign?”

  “The Children’s vessel is on sensors, Captain,” B’Kar replied in his extremely high, nasal voice. “They must have arrived shortly before we did, as they have already cleared the debris ring and are moving into the system.”

  “Helm, hold position,” Chakotay ordered Ensign Gleez. Though Gwyn had awoken from her “nap” feeling quite well, Doctor Sharak had ordered her confined to sickbay for the time being for observation. If all went well, Gwyn would be serving again as a communicator for the Children relatively soon. Eden had remained there with her to be on hand the moment communication again became possible. Seven had already rejoined Patel in astrometrics.

  The plan, at least as Chakotay understood it, was quite simple. The sphere they had released had agreed to intercede with the rest of the Children on Voyager’s behalf. Demeter would not be released immediately, but Voyager would be allowed to enter the system and communications would be restored between the two ships to enable Eden to confirm the health and well-being of her people.

  Once that was done, Eden would be allowed to discuss possibilities for aiding the Children, and assuming an acceptable conclusion was reached, both ships would be allowed to depart the Children’s space in peace.

  All Eden and Chakotay awaited now was a signal from the Children that Voyager was clear to move through the debris ring and enter the system.

  Chakotay hated waiting. But the success of Eden’s efforts so far steeled his resolve. The hard work, it seemed, was already done. What remained were really just details.

  “Captain,” Harry called from tactical, “I’m picking up something really unusual within the system.”

  “Go ahead,” Chakotay ordered, turning to look at Harry over his shoulder.

  “Demeter is intact, surrounded by a dense energy field,” Harry reported.

  This much Chakotay had expected. The Children had already explained the means by which they had moved Demeter to their system and confirmed the likelihood that if the ship was still intact, it would also still be held by the field.

  “Hundreds of alien vessels are within a few hundred kilometers of the ship.”

  “What’s the unusual part?” Chakotay asked.

  “One of the spheres nearest Demeter, one that is considerably larger than most of the others and of a slightly different configuration, is showing human life signs.”

  “Is there any way to identify them?” was Chakotay’s obvious question.

  “I’ve got a combadge signal,” Harry confirmed. “It’s Captain O’Donnell.”

  “How strong are his life signs?” Chakotay asked.

  “His heart rate is elevated, along with his respiration, but he’s fine for now,” Harry replied.

  “For now?” Chakotay requested clarification.

  Harry shook his head. “I have no idea how long he’s been in there, but his suit is degrading fairly rapidly. He’s not going to last in there much longer.”

  “I need a better estimate than that, Harry,” Chakotay said.

  “I’d give him twenty minutes, on the outside,” Harry replied.

  “How long did the Children say it would be before we could expect their signal?” Tom asked.

  “They didn’t specify,” Chakotay replied, “but I’d be amazed if it came in the next twenty minutes, if that’s your question.”

  “Harry, calculate the speed with which O’Donnell’s suit is degenerating and, working backward, give me an idea of how long he’s been in there,” Chakotay ordered.

  After a brief pause, Harry said, “I don’t think he’s been in there more than ten minutes so far.”

  Chakotay shook his head in dismay, then tapped his combadge, calling out, “Chakotay to Eden.”

  “Go ahead, Captain,” Eden replied.

  “We have a problem,” Chakotay said, and quickly explained the situation. “So we can assume that as of ten minutes ago, O’Donnell and whoever transported him off Demeter were attempting something. It’s probably fair to say that he still has someone waiting on his end monitoring the situation and waiting to bring him home.”

  “Now who’s the optimist?” Eden replied.

  “You know I’ve had my doubts, Captain,” Chakotay said, “but in the last few hours you’ve made me a believer. We have the beginnings of a peace agreement here. Do you really want to risk blowing it by moving in before the Children invite us?”

  Chakotay knew his answer to that question, but he was genuinely curious to learn what hers would be. History suggested Eden would act with caution. Her next question, however, showed she might have finally reached the end of her patience.

  “Can we get a transporter lock on him from here?” Eden asked.

  Chakotay looked to B’Kar, who replied, “No, Captain. If we were to move past the debris field, just to the borders of the system, we could do it, but not from our present position.”

  “Ensign Gleez, estimated time to get us through that field in one piece?” Chakotay asked.

  “Fifteen minutes,” Gleez replied.

  At this, Tom turned to Chakotay and said, “Gwyn could make it in ten.”

  Chakotay considered this for a moment, then asked, “What about you?”

  Tom’s eyes widened in delight at the prospect. “Eight, at maximum impulse, or nine, if you want to take in the sights along the way.”

  Seconds stretched out as Chakotay waited for Eden to make her decision. Finally her voice came clearly over the com. “I don’t want to risk this, Captain Chakotay, but I think we have to.”

  Chakotay nodded grimly. “So do I.”

  “Ensign Gleez, you are relieved. Stand down for Mister Paris,” Chakotay ordered.

  Gleez rose immediately, and Tom moved quickly to take his station.

  “Shields to maximum, and take us to Yellow Alert,” Chakotay said. “Mister Paris, as soon as you’re ready.”

  “Hang on, everybody,” Tom said. “This is going to get a little bumpy.”

  “Best possible speed, but do try and keep us intact, Commander,” Chakotay ordered.

  “Y
es, sir,” Tom replied, slipping seamlessly into the job he would secretly always love best.

  As Voyager crossed into the debris field, Chakotay sat back, hoping against hope that they were not throwing away all they had so far achieved. It was surprising but satisfying to have learned in the last few minutes that while Eden generally seemed inclined to follow her head, there were obviously times when the demands of her heart weighed infinitely heavier.

  • • •

  The moment Url reported Voyager’s appearance, Fife rose from his seat. Url, Falto, and Vincent’s eyes were glued to him. Elkins seemed to sense something in their expectant silence, but only looked from one to the other, his face growing more puzzled by the second. Earlier in the afternoon Fife had ordered him to prepare the slipstream drive for initiation at a moment’s notice, ostensibly on the chance that O’Donnell’s plan worked. Elkins had complied, but Fife had chosen not to disclose his true agenda to the engineer. Something in the man’s rapport with O’Donnell had convinced Fife that he would never have been sympathetic to the cause.

  “Lieutenant Url, what is the status of our drones?” Fife asked officiously.

  “They are prepared for launch,” Url replied.

  “And our targeting solutions?”

  “Locked in.”

  Fife nodded.

  “All hands, this is Commander Fife,” he called over the shipwide comm. “Voyager has arrived to effect our rescue, and we are going to make sure they have the best possible chance to succeed. In Captain O’Donnell’s absence, I am in command of this vessel. Red Alert. Battle stations.”

  Fife resumed his seat and said calmly, “Lieutenant Url, prepare to launch drones on my mark.”

  “Shouldn’t we retrieve the captain first?” Url asked.

  “I don’t believe he would want us to do that without confirmation that he has completed his mission,” Fife replied.

  “Then we have to wait for that confirmation,” Elkins said sharply.

  “Chief Elkins, your post is the engine room. I suggest you return there immediately, and bring the slipstream drive on line,” Fife replied.