Q could feel the distress his words were causing Kes, and he could only hope they would be sufficient.
“Who did this to her?” Kes demanded.
“The Borg.”
Tears welled in Kes’s eyes, but she did not wipe them away.
“I had no idea,” she finally managed.
“You never thought to check in on the woman who had done so much to make the existence you now enjoy possible?”
“I have,” she corrected him, “and would have again. I just thought, I always thought there would be time.”
“There isn’t.”
“You intend to stop this from happening?” she asked.
“That would be too much to risk. But there might be another way. I’m certain I can’t do what needs to be done alone. I need help,” he admitted.
Even in despair, the inner radiance of Kes’s life force was almost too brilliant to look upon with physical eyes.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “What you described of her death is unthinkable. But to change it could be even worse.”
Q’s head dropped. If what he had already revealed was not enough to compel the Ocampan to aid him, then nothing would.
He forced his eyes to meet hers. “When you decide, you know where to find me.”
Chapter Nine
AXION, NEW ERIGOL
Seven knew this place. The incredibly tall structures, the labyrinth of multilevel walkways connecting them, all surrounding a wide courtyard, had been the setting of her nightmares once the Caeliar had gone. She knew now that it was a Caeliar city, Axion, one of few that had survived an escape attempt by a handful of captured Starfleet personnel. It had been saved—only through the sacrifice of many of its sister cities—by traveling back in time and to a great distance from its original location in what had become the Azure Nebula. Over the ensuing centuries the Caeliar had found a planet, dubbed it New Erigol, and reconstructed what had been destroyed. Then they waited for destiny to catch up with them.
Finding herself at Axion might have been frightening. It was not. Now that it had ceased to hold any power over her whatsoever, it was simply strange.
The city, as she always found it, was eerily silent. Once, tens of thousands of beings had inhabited it. But in her experience, there was only ever one entity that met her here.
Wondering what the Caeliar-human child Annika might now require of her, Seven strolled gingerly to the side of a long rectangular reflecting pool from which the girl traditionally emerged when she wished to torment Seven. Staring into the black of the water, Seven tensed as it began to ripple, steeling herself against any return of the power this child had wielded over her.
She expected the child’s hybrid form to greet her. Instead, the water was soon lit by a bright white light that, once resolved, contained a face Seven did not recognize.
The woman appeared to be human, with strong features and short grayish blond hair. Though her image was two-dimensional, she smiled the moment her eyes locked with Seven’s.
“Is Chakotay with you?” she asked. “I know he is near.”
“To whom am I speaking?” Seven asked, though something in her already knew the answer. Whence this knowledge had come, she could also hazard a fair guess.
“I am Doctor Riley Frazier,” the woman replied. “I need your help.”
VOYAGER
Chakotay hurried into sickbay to find Seven sitting upright on a biobed, tentatively rubbing the area above her right eye. Voyager had beaten a hasty retreat from the Tarkons, who had managed to keep pace with the ship even at maximum warp. After the slipstream drive was engaged, a jump of only two minutes had brought Voyager to an area of space far from any star systems and well clear of the Tarkons.
The captain had been considering the wording of a report he was not looking forward to writing when he had received the call from Doctor Sharak, reporting that Seven had collapsed at her station.
Seven greeted Chakotay with troubled eyes and a weary sigh as he entered sickbay.
“What happened?” he asked. Seven had seemed to have gotten past the initial difficulties of her transformation. He couldn’t help but worry that he and Counselor Cambridge had misjudged her recent equilibrium.
“Miss Seven fell into a state of unconsciousness brought about by heightened activity in the area of her brain where your former EMH’s confidential medical file indicates she possesses something called ‘catoms,’ ” Doctor Sharak, a Tamarian and Voyager’s current CMO, replied, clearly struggling to remain composed. Chakotay was surprised by his tone, as he was usually quite cheerful. The doctor continued, “I understand it is Miss Seven’s preference to be treated by your former EMH, but any and all data that could affect her ongoing health must be kept in her medical file. Miss Seven awoke of her own accord just as I was accessing the information required to treat her condition. She seems fine now, and I am filled with relief that these actions did not pose a threat to her life, but we might not be so fortunate in the future.”
Seven explained, “It was my request that the Doctor segregate his ongoing research about my catoms in his personal files. They are a subject of great curiosity to many in the Federation, and until I am certain that I understand their limits and uses, I do not intend to become a guinea pig.”
Bafflement spread across Doctor Sharak’s face.
“Are these devices that the Caeliar left inside your body capable of altering your physiology to resemble that of a pig?” Sharak asked seriously.
Chakotay bit back a smile. Tamarian syntax was structured around metaphorical allusions, and although Sharak had made monumental strides in his grasp of Federation Standard, there were still times when he struggled with idioms.
“They are not,” Seven replied with equal seriousness. “I was referring to the standard scientific practice of experimenting with new technologies upon lower life-forms.”
Doctor Sharak’s relief was palpable. “Initra at Delmos,” he said, nodding.
Although Chakotay was intrigued by the reference, there were more pressing matters at hand.
“I agree, Doctor Sharak, that information vital to Seven’s health must be readily accessible. It was an oversight and will be corrected immediately.” Turning to Seven, he then asked, “Do you know what caused you to lose consciousness?”
“I was contacted through my catoms by an individual identifying herself as Doctor Riley Frazier,” she replied.
Chakotay’s pulse began to race as she continued, “She and forty-six other members of her previous collective remain in a hidden location beneath the planet’s surface. She sensed my presence, and yours, as soon as we approached the system and is requesting our assistance.”
The captain took a deep breath to center himself. “Are you well enough to brief the rest of the staff?”
Seven nodded. “With the doctor’s permission, of course.”
Somewhat mollified, Sharak smiled, “As long as Miss Seven returns for a full evaluation as soon as her duties allow, I am in agreement.”
Chakotay wondered how long Seven, who usually took great care to be appropriately addressed, would allow Doctor Sharak to continue referring to her as “miss.” She slid from the biobed and said, “Thank you, Doctor. I will return as soon as possible. If I experience any discomfort in the meantime, I will contact you at once.”
Before they left the sickbay, Chakotay called senior officers to the conference room. As soon as the doors closed behind them, the captain turned to Seven with a mischievous grin and asked, “Miss Seven?”
Cocking her head slightly, after a moment’s thought, Seven replied, “He intends it as a term of respect. In the absence of a rank it is technically a correct form of address.”
“If it doesn’t bother you, Miss Seven—” Chakotay teased gently, but she cut him off abruptly.
“Doctor Sharak may use the term as he sees fit. You may not.”
Any lingering doubts that Seven had been damaged by the exercise of her catoms vanished. Chako
tay was relieved, as the rest of his day had become significantly more complicated.
• • •
A dull ache began to throb at Tom Paris’s temples as Seven made her report to the assembled senior staff. He noticed with interest that Chakotay seemed to be sharing a private joke with Seven, while Harry Kim, Kenth Lasren, Devi Patel, and Nancy Conlon listened respectfully. However, B’Elanna followed Seven’s words with a look of mingled trepidation and resignation on her face.
“There was not time for lengthy discussion,” Seven said, after revealing her communication with Doctor Riley Frazier. “Our contact was terminated quite abruptly, presumably when Voyager’s departure from the system created too great a distance between us for our catoms to bridge.”
“Our catoms?” Kim interrupted.
Seven’s eyes narrowed as she turned to him. “Yes. Originally I believed that we would find no traces of the Borg or Caeliar during this mission, but I now must reconsider my position.”
Kim accepted her admission graciously with a simple nod. Tom stifled his amazment. He could count on one hand and no fingers the number of times he had ever heard Seven even imply that she had been wrong about anything.
Unruffled, Seven continued, “Obviously, the transformation of my Borg implants into catoms was not a unique event. I do not believe it was common among the Borg who were offered membership in the Caeliar gestalt. Doctor Frazier’s circumstances were as unusual as my own. However, without more information from her about her Caeliar experience, I cannot begin to calculate the number of former Borg who might now exist outside the gestalt.”
“We know of at least forty-eight,” Chakotay interjected, obviously anxious to move things along.
“We have to go back for them, don’t we?” Tom asked, not relishing the prospect.
“Riley was Starfleet before she was assimilated,” Chakotay began. “Whatever she became, we cannot ignore her call for help. Beyond that, our mission directive is quite explicit: investigate thoroughly any evidence of Borg or Caeliar activity in the quadrant. We’re going back.”
“The Tarkons’ weapons are formidable,” Kim offered. “My readings of the energy web indicated that it would have trapped Voyager, even with our shields at maximum.”
“I was able to detect multiple phase shifts in the area that might have indicated additional cloaked vessels,” Patel added.
“We’re facing, at minimum, twenty-five ships, between us and the planet,” Chakotay noted.
“Yes, sir.” The science officer nodded. “Probably more.”
“We need to transport forty-seven people from beneath the planet’s surface,” B’Elanna said. “That will expose us for several minutes to whatever weapons they have, while our shields are down.”
“When we return, I might be able to resume my link with Doctor Frazier,” Seven advised. “If they are able to move their group closer to the surface, it will cut down the time we are vulnerable.”
“For a minimum of six or seven transport cycles,” Lasren pointed out.
“Even if we can get close enough for the transport,” Kim said, “we’re going to take fire, Captain. And we’re going to have to return it if we want to get near that planet.”
“We could exit the slipstream corridor close enough to the planet to surprise the Tarkons,” Tom suggested. “If we can get in and out before they can move into position, it might work.”
“Too risky,” Conlon countered. “I know Gwyn is good, but if our calculations are off by a fraction, we’ll pass right through the planet.”
B’Elanna offered her fellow engineer a nod of agreement.
“We need a distraction,” Chakotay stated. “Harry, I need a countermeasure for those energy nets and evasive patterns for attacks from multiple vectors. Devi and Kenth, optimize our sensors to detect all threats out there. B’Elanna and Nancy, we need a way to transport forty-seven people simultaneously from the planet because we’re only going to get one shot at this.”
“And how long do we have to accomplish this miracle?” B’Elanna asked.
“Three hours,” Chakotay replied.
“Oh, good,” Conlon said. “I was worried we were going to be rushed.”
Chapter Ten
ACHILLES
After too brief a respite for Cambridge, during which he had cleaned up after the seven hours they’d spent hiking the rest of the trail and the Doctor had done whatever it was he did when his presence wasn’t required, the three regrouped in Eden’s guest quarters.
“And where are we?” Cambridge asked as he entered, immediately taking the seat beside Eden on the short sofa that formed almost the entirety of the cabin’s seating area. The Doctor had pulled a chair from the small work station, and his padds were laid out before him on a low, oval coffee table. For a ship of Achilles’ size, it seemed to Cambridge that the designers were positively stingy with the space allocation for crew quarters.
“We are no closer to figuring out what the five artifacts we discovered have in common, beyond the obvious, or where the sixth might be,” Eden replied with a sigh. On a small table beside the sofa, she had placed the three items she had taken from the surface: the fossilized honeycomb, a large pine cone, and a beautiful flower that resembled a sunflower. Why these particular items had interested the captain, Cambridge had no idea.
Beyond the Illiara representation, the team had discovered the one depicting Oskria. The final two starscape renderings the trail had held were Betsila and Shrask. All had noted that the distance between artifacts had increased dramatically as they progressed. But none of them could see any significance in the spacing, apart from the fact that as they climbed, the clusters of large rocks grew denser and the hillside steeper.
Eden had been certain that another artifact would be found several hundred meters beyond Shrask. But the hillside had ended and there was no telling what direction one might need to travel to locate the missing Lazria artifact. Of its existence, Eden had no doubt, but she was unable to determine where it might be found.
When not lost staring at the alien sunflower, Eden studied a padd that contained the images they had seen that night, arranged according to her understanding of them, in a single view. Considering them, Cambridge had to admit that it was a striking and lovely view of stars. However, comparisons with every known star chart in the Federation’s database yielded nothing to match them, and even Cambridge was beginning to believe that, tantalizing as this mystery was, it might be impossible to solve. One question plagued him.
Placing his feet on the coffee table and leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head, he asked Eden, “What happens to you when you do what you did on the planet today? You said you’ve done it ever since you were a little girl. You stare at an object and suddenly, you just know something about it.”
Eden continued to study her padd.
“It’s nothing I do, or seem capable of calling on at will, if that’s what you’re asking,” she finally replied.
“Whatever it is, it either affects or is affected by your subatomic makeup,” the Doctor interjected. “Your scans altered significantly every time you encountered an artifact and were able to designate it.”
“She’s been doing this since she was a child, so by doing it again today she is no more likely to dissolve into some sort of subatomic goo than she was at any other time,” Cambridge said.
Eden rubbed her eyes. “Maybe we should get a good night’s sleep and come at this fresh in the morning.”
“Of course, Captain,” the Doctor said, beginning to collect his padds.
“You still haven’t really answered my question, Afsarah,” Cambridge said, remaining comfortably in place.
Eden considered him wearily, then replied, “It’s hard to explain. It’s like, I know the whole story.”
“Go on,” Cambridge urged gently.
“It’s as if I read the information somewhere, or just always knew it, but it doesn’t come to the front of my consciousness until I’m lookin
g at the object in question. There are flashes, moments when I think I can hold the entire history of whatever I’m looking at in my mind. I see not just the artifact, but the people who created it, their lives, their deaths, even their intentions, strange as that might sound.”
“Strange, I’ll grant you, but it’s an incredible thing to witness,” Cambridge offered. “What was the story of the people who left those carvings?”
“I can’t tell you now,” she answered. “I might have been able to if you’d asked when I first saw them. The only thing I still hold clearly in my mind now is that these images should be arranged as they are here; that someone, somewhere, saw this when they looked up at the sky. And I know that farther this way,” she indicated a point beyond the padd she had picked up and held on her lap, “would be Lazria.”
“Is this intended to point you to a planet somewhere on this map that is significant to you, or perhaps to your uncles?”
Eden shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“Do you need to see Lazria to know what else might be on this map?” Hugh asked.
“I won’t know until I see it and I don’t know where to go from here. Without more information, I can’t imagine how we would use this map to locate my home planet. I came here, hoping to find it, but I’m beginning to believe that wherever it is, it might just be too far away to ever be reached.”
“Sleep on it, Captain,” the Doctor gently urged. “You’ve earned your rest. If there’s anything you need during the night, I’ll be available.” He then stared at Cambridge with eyes that virtually commanded him to get up and leave Eden in peace.
For now, exhausted as he was, Cambridge saw no reason not to humor the hologram.
“See you both bright and early,” Cambridge said as he rose from the couch and followed the Doctor out of Eden’s quarters. He hoped nothing else was going to happen tonight, because he had every intention of being unconscious for the next several hours.
Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide Page 10
