“ Your intentions are of no consequence. Prepare to be boarded,” the voice replied.
“They’ve cut the channel, Captain,” Lasren advised.
“If we allow them to detain us, we will get that closer look we’ve been hoping for of Riley’s Planet. I’m assuming that’s the nearest resettlement facility,” Tom offered with a healthy dose of sarcasm.
Chakotay weighed his options for a moment. His mandate was to avoid armed conflict except in the most extreme circumstances. While learning the fate of the planet’s former “colonists” was a priority, he wasn’t sure it rose to the level required for him to initiate hostilities. However, remaining in Tarkon space was going to be construed as starting hostilities, whether Voyager fired a single shot or not. His gut told him the Tarkons wouldn’t be making such a ridiculous threat if they didn’t believe they could back it up. Past reports of the Tarkons certainly gave credence to the possibility.
“Ensign Gwyn, plot a retreat course that takes us on a fairly wide arc toward the planet. Lasren, alert Seven that this is the best look we’re going to get, so make it count.”
“Captain, if I may?” Gwyn interrupted.
“Ensign?”
“There’s something really odd about that ship’s propulsion configuration.”
“How so?” Tom asked, taking a close look at the readout he was getting from his command chair’s data panel.
“The wider, upper array of the vessel has to have full navigational capabilities. The lower array is too small to contain a warp drive. It’s actually completely unnecessary, unless . . .”
“Unless?” Chakotay asked as his flight controller’s voice trailed off.
“Captain, the Tarkon ship is altering configuration,” Kim quickly advised.
How does a single ship alter its configuration? Chakotay wondered as the incredibly disheartening spectacle played itself out on the main viewscreen.
“Helm, evasive maneuvers!” he ordered as what had been a single ship broke apart into five smaller vessels. Four of them had previously been the ship’s lower level. Once freed from the wide-angled bar that comprised the upper level, they were revealed as smaller but incredibly maneuverable and well-armed ships. The V section continued its approach, arming its own weapons in the process as its four compatriots moved into a diamond formation, obviously intent on surrounding Voyager.
“Four more Tarkon vessels decloaking,” Kim’s raised voice called from tactical.
Chakotay did the math instantaneously. A moment ago they had been facing one Tarkon ship. Now they were facing twenty-five. Avoiding hostilities now seemed impossible.
Suddenly, bright yellow energy beams erupted from the bellies of each of the four smaller vessels. They were not, however, directed at Voyager. Instead, they merged at a central point and as they did so, numerous identical beams formed in concentric circles around the center where the beams initially converged. The four vessels’ approach vector widened, and the net they had cast between them did the same, clearly preparing to engulf Voyager.
Chakotay didn’t wait to see more. “Helm, get us out of here, maximum warp.”
• • •
Seven of Nine did not normally find it debilitating to perform her routine functions in astrometrics. She had slept well and consumed an appropriate amount of nutrients to sustain her before beginning her duty shift. Her day’s work thus far had consisted of aligning the sensors at her disposal to provide the most detailed analysis available of the planet Voyager had come to investigate. Although she firmly believed it was an exercise in futility, she intended to gather as much evidence as possible of the “nothing” she was certain they were about to find.
Although she had been surprised the moment Voyager dropped out of warp to discover signs of a much larger population than Riley’s colonists could possibly account for, that could not have caused the wave of light-headedness she felt.
She forced herself to focus past it and was soon dividing her attention between Chakotay’s conversation with the Tarkon vessel and the redistribution of power required to optimize the astrometric array.
The second wave of dizziness unsteadied her on her feet and caused her gorge to rise. This sensation was followed by a brief, piercing pain above her right eye and at the base of her neck.
Inhaling deeply to clear her vision, she heard Chakotay call to her from the bridge and marshaled all of her resources to answer him and continue the task at hand.
As she waited for the array’s realignment and watched the status bar creep incredibly slowly toward operational levels, a third and significantly more intensive wave of disorientation took her knees out from under her.
Seven found herself on the deck, reaching for the edge of the station above her to pull herself to her feet with one hand as she lifted the other to tap her combadge and call for assistance.
As another pain sliced through her head, both her arms dropped and her body tumbled onto the deck. Bright flashes of light forced her eyes closed but continued to penetrate the darkness as she lost consciousness.
Chapter Seven
U.S.S. ACHILLES
Commander Tillum Drafar, Captain of the Achilles, entered the transporter room with his final report for Captain Eden. Her team was already assembled, and each carried small equipment packs on their backs. They were quite prepared for a long journey on the surface of the relatively small planet below.
“Good morning Captain, Counselor, Doctor,” he greeted each of them officiously before settling his attention on Eden. Though Captain Eden was considered tall for a human female, the top of her head only just reached his shoulders. At two and a half meters high, Drafar was considered of average height for a Lendrin. “I have spoken with the resident administrator, a gentleman who called himself Ghert, and he has cleared your team for transport. He has indicated that you should be mindful of all posted signs and consider yourselves welcome to visit the local tavern in Midrin, which is the closest encampment to the area you will be exploring.”
“How thoughtful of him,” Eden replied without enthusiasm. Intelligence on the Mikhal indicated that they offered fair terms in trade of information or resources, but by nature were suspicious of strangers and anxious to embellish the truth if it might result in any sort of advantage in negotiations.
“Is it my imagination, or is the outpost a little busier than it was the last time Voyager stopped here?” Eden asked briskly.
“Ghert did indicate that traffic around the outpost has increased significantly in the last few months. Apparently,” Drafar continued, “reports are continuously flowing in about the lack of activity along the borders of territory formerly known to be held by the Borg. I did not inform Mister Ghert about the Federation’s contact with the Caeliar, but did advise him that we had not noted any Borg activity en route to the outpost.”
“Good,” Eden acknowledged. Soon enough, any space-faring species daring enough to travel near Borg space would likely come to the same conclusion, but the Federation fleet hadn’t returned to the Delta Quadrant to “spread the good news,” as it were. Rather, they had come to confirm it. If at some point the matter were decisively settled, Starfleet would be apprised and new orders might be issued about releasing the information to any natives the fleet encountered.
“My transporter chief,” Drafar indicated the officer behind him, “will ensure that your team can be extracted at a moment’s notice, should the need arise. And, if there is anything else you require, you have but to contact me.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Eden replied with a curt nod.
“Ghert also asked if your team might not prefer to wait until morning in the northern hemisphere before beginning your work. He indicated that the path you intend to study can be treacherous at night.”
Eden dismissed his suggestion with a shake of her head. “I appreciate his concern, but we’ll be fine, Commander,” she replied, joining the others on the transporter padd.
Drafar had to admit, he was curiou
s about the abrupt change in Achilles’ orders. He had spent several days working with his flight controllers to plot a course that would keep his ship within range of all fleet vessels currently exploring former Borg space so that they could provide backup. While orbiting the Mikhal Outpost at Captain Eden’s discretion, Achilles was leaving Quirinal and Curie particularly vulnerable: Esquiline and Hawking could rendezvous with them hours ahead of Achilles should the need arise, but that thought left Darfar uneasy. Captain Eden had not shared the particulars of her mission with him, and as fleet commander that was certainly her prerogative, but he found it distasteful to perform a task without understanding every aspect.
“Safe travels,” Drafar said with a nod, then turned to his transporter chief. “Energize.” A few moments later, Eden, Cambridge, and the Doctor disappeared in a shimmer of light. After the weeks spent in round-the-clock controlled chaos repairing Quirinal, he should have been happy that this mission would provide a brief respite.
Sadly, that was not his nature.
• • •
The landing party materialized in a small, circular clearing in a dense forest of what appeared to be evergreen conifer trees. The tall, ancient-looking trees blocked what little light was cast by the three moons orbiting the outpost this night. As they were in a waning gibbous phase, the moons would illuminate the artifact the team had come to investigate—though not as brightly as when they were full—as they had on the night the images of them had been taken by Kes.
Cambridge had not questioned Eden’s insistence that they begin their journey at dusk. By day, it was likely that the starscape carved into the rock a few meters up the path ahead would barely be visible. He had wondered at Eden’s rather sharp mood. For the present, the Doctor seemed content to keep his own counsel, though the moment they materialized he had taken a small medical tricorder from his pocket and begun a silent scan of Eden.
Captain Eden remained rooted in place for several moments after they had materialized. She took short, measured breaths as she gazed about the clearing, almost as if she expected an attack.
To their left was the beginning of a barely discernible trail. It widened a short distance farther along. A large stone marked its continuation where it turned sharply and curved upward. In several places the clearing was dotted with cones dropped from the trees overhead. They appeared very similar to the familiar Earth pine cone. As ever, it seemed that nature followed certain patterns, even across the vast distances.
“Well, Afsarah?” Cambridge asked, wondering if her physical presence here was having an effect on her.
“Well, what?” she snapped, without so much as glancing toward him.
Cambridge looked first to the Doctor, whose raised eyebrows indicated that he had noted Eden’s hostility. He gently closed his tricorcer and busied himself pretending to study the trees overhead.
Coward, Cambridge thought ungenerously as he moved to stand directly in front of Eden.
“Something wrong, Captain?” Cambridge asked more gently than was his wont.
Eden finally met his eyes and as she did so, he noted a very uncharacteristic anger glowing there. “I should never have let you talk me into this,” she replied quietly.
The counselor felt a faint smile rising to his lips. “That’s just fear talking, Afsarah.” Even in the pale light of the clearing he could see that she was shaking, though the night was perfectly warm. “You’ll need to set that aside for the next several hours.”
“I’m seriously considering returning to Achilles and ordering them back on their previous course. It doesn’t matter how unique my genome is, or where I actually came from. This is a waste of time.”
Cambridge had actually expected this. He was about to say as much when the Doctor stepped forward. “Captain, if I may?” he asked, then continued on without waiting for what would surely have been a negative response. “You are right. This is a waste of time. Given the fact that your uncles likely never visited the Delta Quadrant, and certainly did not after you were with them, it is beyond the realm of possibility that this is your home. But, you have said that much of the life you spent with them consisted of examining the artifacts of ancient species. It is possible that you responded as you did—to your first sight of the image that is waiting for you just a little ways up this hill—not because it was directly linked to you, but because it represents something significant that your uncles were seeking. If you can’t bring yourself to act now on your own behalf, would you consider doing this for them?”
Eden’s face lost its stiffness as she considered the Doctor’s words. Finally she said, “They lied to me.”
“On some level you have always known this to be true, Afsarah,” Hugh chided her softly.
“It’s one thing to know it,” she replied, “and quite another to know it.”
“For now, you know nothing,” the Doctor corrected her. “However, the answer you are seeking, the one that might bring you some semblance of peace, could be here. Surely that’s worth the risk that you might be disappointed by whatever we find up there.”
“I’m not afraid that I’ll be disappointed, Doctor,” she replied evenly. “I’m afraid I won’t be.”
“Whatever this secret is, Afsarah, you can’t hide from it,” Cambridge insisted.
“I have, for over forty years now. I’ve pretended I was just like everyone else. The feeling that I had when I first saw that thing, there was hope in it, a little bit of certainty, and that was comforting. But there was also darkness within. And that darkness almost overwhelmed me when I read the writing on the Staff of Ren. Maybe I’m not supposed to find the answer.”
“I’ve seen you through ordeals that were worse than this little hike and I’ve never known you to react with such intensity,” Hugh reminded her. “You must either face whatever this darkness is now, or it will most surely come to deal with you later, when you least expect or are prepared for it.”
Eden considered this, stepping a few paces past Cambridge, to the base of the path. “Tricorders out, gentlemen,” she ordered. “We’re only going to have one shot at this, so let’s make the most of it.”
• • •
A series of large rocks that appeared to be part of the natural formation of the hillside dotted the path that rose quite steeply in a few places until they came to the stone they were seeking. The image Eden had seen was as brilliant as it ever was—a constellation, bright stars varying in sizes, cast throughout a roughly ovoid series of lines. Bending to examine it more closely, she imagined that time would never dim its light nor distort the intricately carved whorls. The small stones seemed to glow with an inner light rather than the reflected brilliance of the moons.
Her initial reaction to the image had been so intense, so visceral, that Eden had expected something similar when she finally gazed upon the stone itself.
She was disappointed.
Its beauty was no surprise—that had been eloquently captured in the image. And beyond her certainty that the constellation depicted was known as Hanara, the stone seemed to hold no deeper mystery.
She studied it silently for a few minutes before turning to Cambridge and the Doctor with a shrug. “I don’t get it,” she said, disappointed. “It is what it is.”
“You said it was part of a map,” Cambridge attempted to encourage her. “Where is the rest of it? What’s missing?”
Eden didn’t think, she placed her hand slightly above and to the right of the starscape carved on the stone. “Illiara would be here. And this area belongs to Oskria.”
Cambridge stiffened as his eyes widened. “I beg your pardon.”
As she realized what had just happened, Eden felt a chill run through her. The same intuitive knowing that had been such fun when she was a little girl had just returned with a vengeance.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the stars you are referring to are not in our databases, are they?” the Doctor inquired.
Though her heart began to thump loudly and irregularly
in her chest, and some distant voice buried deep inside begged her to stop, Eden found herself replying, “Illiara and Oskria aren’t stars. They’re galaxies.”
“Visible from the same vantage point where one would have seen Hanara?” Cambridge asked.
Afsarah Eden tried to quiet the cacophony now swirling in her head, wondering why at this moment she was remembering her dream of Voyager as it fled at maximum warp from its own destruction. Willing the image of her nightmare to recede, she replied, “Yes.”
The Doctor again pulled out his tricorder and quickly scanned her. Her heart began to slow and she rubbed her arms vigorously to eliminate the goose bumps that had popped up all over them.
“Interesting,” the Doctor noted as he completed his scan.
“How so?” Eden demanded.
“There are some significant fluctuations in your subatomic scan,” he replied. “I have no idea what, if anything, that might indicate, but they seem to be receding now.”
Cambridge was already making his way a little farther up the hill.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Kes’s guide indicated that there were more of these along this path—the only known artifacts of the race believed to have first inhabited this planet. If you’re right, it’s possible they weren’t born here, but came here from someplace quite distant.”
Eden nodded. Though part of her still wished to refrain from learning anything more, nothing could have kept her now from continuing.
“Shall we?” she gestured to the Doctor, who nodded vigorously. Cambridge was already out of sight, but a few moments later, a rustling of loose stones was followed by a loud curse.
They hurried up the steep, sharply curving path, using the large rocks that now lined it for leverage. Cambridge was standing a few paces down the path in front of another glowing rock face, holding what looked like a large stone in his hand.
Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide Page 8
