“This isn’t your fault, Admiral,” Eden insisted. “Any more than it is mine. You’re the one who said guilt was a waste of time.”
“That was before I knew just how much of it I’d be asked to swallow,” Kathryn replied bitterly.
“Do you have to enter the Omega Continuum?” Chakotay asked of Eden, hoping to turn the conversation toward more constructive ends.
Kathryn marveled silently at his newfound strength. She’d always known he possessed the heart of a warrior, but she felt considerably less composed than he appeared to be at the moment. It was an unusual place in which to find herself.
“Our people just made the ultimate sacrifice.” He paused before adding with great compassion, “Are you ready to do the same?”
Kathryn studied Eden, and where she hoped to see resolve, she saw only despair.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” a new voice replied in her stead.
Kathryn turned to see Q standing beside her.
• • •
When B’Elanna Torres rushed into astrometrics, Seven of Nine wasn’t there. Ensign Rosio advised her that Seven had returned to her quarters.
Frustrated, B’Elanna retraced her steps to the turbolift, and was soon standing outside Seven’s door. She pressed the door chime several times before it opened. However, Seven was not on the other side.
“Seven?” B’Elanna called out into the darkened living area.
A few moments later, Seven stepped out of the doorway that led to her bedroom, moisture still clinging to her cheeks. B’Elanna stepped toward her. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Seven did not look well. The flesh beneath her eyes was puffy and darkened, in stark contrast to the pale skin of her face. Several wisps of long blond hair had fallen free, and there was a definite slouch to her shoulders.
Seven took a deep breath and said, “I am fine. I was just on my way back to astrometrics.”
“Seven, when was the last time you slept?”
“Fifty-three hours ago,” she replied.
B’Elanna’s eyes widened. “Is that a new personal best for you?”
Seven’s head cocked to the right, an old tic, and she asked, “Explain.”
“You’re not Borg anymore. And whatever the Caeliar left you, it clearly can’t replace sleep.”
“None of us have had adequate time to rest since this tragedy began to unfold,” Seven replied.
“No, and it’s not over yet,” B’Elanna agreed. Crossing to Seven’s replicator, she added, “I need you in top form. Two raktajino s, hot,” she ordered.
As soon as they materialized, B’Elanna crossed back to Seven. “A much needed ’fresher break will only get you so far. Drink up.”
“I’d rather not,” Seven replied.
“Want me to make it an order?”
Seven’s eyes hardened. “Do you need to be reminded that I do not serve aboard this vessel in an official capacity? While I am willing to observe the chain of command, I am not actually obligated to follow your or anyone else’s orders when they violate my personal ethics.”
“You have a moral issue with Klingon coffee?”
“It is disgusting.”
“It will clear your head quicker than a nap,” B’Elanna snapped, offended on behalf of her favorite stimulant.
Seven considered the cup B’Elanna held before her. When she still hesitated, B’Elanna added more gently, “I know it must pain you to admit that you are now as frail as the rest of us mortals, but trust me. I know how you feel right now. Infants come into this world knowing how to suck, cry, poop, and deny their caregivers sleep. Five days after Miral was born I hadn’t slept for more than an hour. Then my body simply shut down, and this”—she lifted Seven’s cup—“was the only thing that allowed me to survive it. Grieve the fragile human condition later, hold your nose, and drink.”
Seven’s face softened, and she accepted the cup. After several dutiful sips, something rebelled, and she only held it down by holding her free hand to her mouth to keep it closed.
B’Elanna watched this with repressed glee, and once the grimace of distaste had left Seven’s face asked, “Now how do you feel?”
Seven seriously considered the question and replied, “Better.”
“Right. Now look at this,” B’Elanna ordered, sipping from her own cup as she called up a display on Seven’s personal workstation. B’Elanna then pulled out the chair and gestured for Seven to sit. Once Seven was settled in, she surprised B’Elanna by drinking again. The engineer smiled to herself, but said nothing as the last scan of the barrier she had taken while aboard Quirinal appeared on the screen.
Seven studied the readings. “Are these from Quirinal?”
“Right before we transported out.”
“How were you able to retrieve information from beyond the barrier?”
“You mean from something that does not exist?”
“Yes.”
“I set the sensors on a wide, rotating harmonic, and at the last second, this is what I got.”
Seven’s respiration increased. B’Elanna worried that the caffeine rushing through a virgin nervous system might have done more harm than good.
“To be honest,” B’Elanna confessed, “I’m not sure it was anything I did. Captain Eden was engaging the barrier in some way. I think she was talking to it. Now I’m wondering if she might have weakened—”
“It doesn’t matter how you received this data,” Seven cut her off. “If it is accurate—”
“—we’re in big trouble,” B’Elanna finished for her.
Seven’s breathing calmed. “No. This we can fix.”
• • •
Chakotay stepped back automatically, dropping Kathryn’s hand. He watched her struggle with the same instinct. Then he cheered internally when she pulled herself upright and squared her shoulders to face Q.
“So now you know what this anomaly is?” Janeway asked cynically.
Q dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. From the moment he had materialized, it seemed he had eyes only for Captain Eden. She returned his penetrating gaze with cold eyes and a stoic mask.
“I always knew, Kathy,” he said briskly. “The longer you didn’t, the better for all of us.”
Chakotay found himself torn. Q had never appeared without Chakotay experiencing a deep, primal need to punch the unnatural being squarely in the gut. The Continuum had made Janeway’s resurrection possible. That was not enough, however, for him to forgive the disdain Q had just displayed for her.
“If you don’t have anything pertinent to add to this discussion, Q, then get out,” Chakotay warned him.
“Be silent, tattooed boy,” Q replied ominously. “You couldn’t act on the many dark fantasies of retribution you are currently entertaining even if you wanted to, so I suggest you stand there like the lump of useless wood I’ve always thought you to be and listen carefully to your betters.”
Janeway quickly pressed her foot next to his. Chakotay accepted her request that he do as Q had “asked,” even as he continued to seethe. Sticks and stones, he reminded himself while forcing his breath to slow down.
“Why can’t Captain Eden reenter Omega now?” Janeway asked evenly.
“Because she doesn’t actually possess the power required to perform her noble little display of self-immolation,” Q replied.
“The power?” the admiral asked.
“Were she to return to Omega now, as she is, she would only seal this particular rupture. And while she was busy trying to convince her ne’er-do-well father to forgive himself for allowing his curiosity to bring eternity to its knees, Omega would continue to intrude upon the multiverse, hastening its demise. We wouldn’t be talking about the days your latest display of cosmic ignorance has left you—it would be a matter of years at best. Omega has tasted its appetizers and won’t be denied the main course now.”
“Is he telling the truth?” Chakotay asked Eden. She did not reply, but appeared to swallow a lump
that had formed in her throat.
Q stepped closer to Eden, and for a moment the captain feared for her life. Given Eden’s dual nature, Chakotay wondered if even Q had the power to end her existence.
“I am, I assure you,” Q replied for her.
“Then how?” Janeway demanded.
“How can she promise to end this threat completely?” Q smiled without a hint of amusement. “Easy. The power she requires does exist. It resides within the Q Continuum. In fact, it is the Q Continuum—that which was created to balance the Omega Continuum.”
“In order to close Omega, she must destroy the Q?” Janeway asked, aghast.
The look in Q’s eyes dared Eden to contradict him.
She met his challenge, replying evenly, “Yes.”
Chapter Thirty-one
SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH
STARFLEET ACADEMY
The new term of his last year at the Academy was just under way, and Icheb was already wondering if he was going to survive it. Before he began his studies at the Academy, he’d believed that the years he had spent aboard Voyager would have prepared him to face anything the school could throw at him. However, the Academy made the most hectic days aboard Voyager appear positively boring.
Naomi Wildman was only a plebe, but she was feeling the strain. They’d met after dinner for study time and commiseration. She had managed to pull three of the toughest instructors and was seriously entertaining a plan to leave the Academy and enroll in one of France’s culinary institutions. While she didn’t think her parents would approve, she was certain she’d have her godfather Neelix’s blessing.
Icheb had counseled her to stick it out for a few more weeks. She had agreed, but the gentle sloping of her shoulders as she’d left his quarters had tugged at his heart. Immediately, Icheb had composed a quick communiqué, asking her to meet him for breakfast prior to morning PT. He had promised Seven to keep an eye on Naomi. He hadn’t seen Naomi often since they’d returned to Earth, and most of his memories of her had been as a girl. Since they’d met infrequently, he’d been surprised by her physical development, but she was still so very young. Icheb knew his childhood had been far from ideal, but he wondered if he had ever been so innocent.
He had just finished his note to Naomi when a completely unexpected and almost unrecognizable voice said softly, “Don’t worry about Naomi. She’ll come around.”
Icheb turned to see Q seated on his rack, his hands resting on his knees. He had matured considerably since the last time they’d met. He could be in his thirties, Icheb thought with a pang of envy. However, there were still faint traces of the callous young man Icheb had once had the fortune, or misfortune, to know.
“Q?”
“Hi, Icheb,” Q replied with a genuine if muted smile.
Icheb rose, feeling incredibly awkward, but pleased that Q had not called him by the least favorite nickname he’d ever acquired: Itchy.
“Why are you here?” Icheb asked.
Q studied his knees for what felt like a very long time.
“Has something happened?” Icheb persisted.
“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Q finally said.
“What’s odd?”
Finally Q looked up at him, and the sadness Icheb saw in his eyes was intensely disconcerting.
“I haven’t been alive much longer than you have, but in that time I’ve traveled through the multiverse, met and interacted with countless beings, many of them beyond your comprehension, and in all that time, I only made one friend.”
“Who?” Icheb asked, curious.
“You, you idiot.” Q smirked.
Much as Icheb wanted to be flattered by this, his few interactions with the Q made that difficult for him.
“Come on,” Icheb demurred.
“There was one other, a female Q, Amanda, who thought she was human for most of her life. But she’s gone now.”
“She left the Continuum?” Icheb asked, wondering if he’d received this late-night visit for relationship advice. If that was where Q was going with this, he might have chosen a better confidant. A few of his classmates had turned Icheb’s head over the years, but nothing resembling a real relationship had developed.
“She died, trying to help me,” Q replied.
Icheb swallowed the lump that immediately formed in his throat at this revelation.
“I’m so sorry,” he said truthfully.
Q nodded. “Thank you.”
Icheb moved to sit next to Q on his rack. He had no idea how one might comfort a Q, but as he had appeared to him in human form, Icheb acted as if he were talking to a friend.
“I didn’t think the Q could die,” he said, hoping to draw Q out. It was clear that he needed to talk.
“They can, under very rare circumstances,” Q admitted.
“I know how awful you must feel,” Icheb said. “A number of the older cadets I knew were killed during the Borg invasion. Admiral Janeway’s death . . .”
Q turned to look at him, the faintest of smiles hovering on his lips. Then he sighed and looked away again.
“Can I ask you something?” Q said without meeting Icheb’s eyes.
“Sure.”
“Did your parents love you?”
Icheb didn’t have to think very hard to answer this. “No.”
Q faced him, surprised. “How is that possible? If you aren’t every parent’s dream of a perfect son, no one is.”
“They never took the time to see that,” Icheb replied, refusing to allow the anger he still felt toward his parents to surface. “They created me to save their people from the Borg. They might have loved me for that, but never just for me.”
A sad smile crossed Q’s lips. “Seems I came to the right place,” he said softly. “No wonder we’re friends.”
Icheb wanted to ask what he meant.
“I need your help.”
“What can I do?” Icheb asked, though part of him wondered how he could help a Q.
“I have a choice to make,” Q replied, “something I have to do, but I honestly don’t know if I have it in me.”
Icheb considered his words, and then decided to treat this like a scientific problem. “What is the choice?”
“I have to kill someone.”
Icheb rose involuntarily.
“Don’t worry, it’s not you,” Q said.
“I should hope not.”
Q rose and crossed to Icheb’s small desk. He placed both hands on the back of the chair and continued, “I’ve never killed, on purpose anyway. And I find, now, that the thought is incredibly troubling.”
“It should be,” Icheb said, aghast. He took a deep breath and slowly explained, “I realize you have been raised to think of all life-forms that are not Q as beneath you, but they are not. There are very few instances where ending anyone’s life can be considered morally justified.”
“I know,” Q said, bowing his head.
“There must be another option.”
“There is,” Q said, finally turning to face him. “I could allow the entire multiverse to be destroyed.”
“The needs of the many versus the needs of the few?” Icheb asked.
“Or one.” Q nodded.
“Has this individual committed a crime?”
Q smiled again. “Many,” he admitted, “though none that warrants death.”
“But if you do not kill . . . whoever,” Icheb found it difficult to believe, “life as it now exists across all space-time will end?”
“Yes.”
Icheb sat back down. “Is there someone else you can ask?”
“ ‘If this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it . . .’ ” Q said softly.
“What is that?” Icheb asked.
“Nothing,” he replied. “I know what I have to do. And somehow, I guess I’ll find the strength to do it.”
Icheb nodded slowly, dreading either outcome.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I don’t think I’ve been much help to you. Is there
anything I can do?”
Q’s eyes met his, and though his face was that of a grown man, his gaze was that of a very frightened child.
“Would you come with me? Just . . . for a little while?”
Icheb was stunned. He had two quizzes in the morning, or if Q was telling the truth, maybe nobody did.
“I don’t want to be alone right now,” Q pleaded.
Icheb rose on trembling legs. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” Q replied with a tight smile.
Icheb asked, “Where, exactly, are we going?”
“This part you may like,” Q replied enigmatically.
VOYAGER
Hugh Cambridge had reported to the sickbay and happily turned his medical tricorder over to the Doctor. The sickbay was otherwise unoccupied for the evening, and Cambridge considered retreating to his quarters. He paused when he heard the Doctor call over the comm to Seven.
“Go ahead, Doctor,” came her quick response.
“I need you to report to sickbay immediately.”
“I will be there as soon as possible, Doctor,” Seven replied.
“Not to be difficult, Seven, but unless you are trapped under a bulkhead, I really do mean now,” the Doctor said.
After a pause, she said, “Understood.”
At this, Cambridge seated himself on the nearest biobed.
A few moments later, Seven strode quickly into the sickbay. She paused and looked at Cambridge, who waved in salutation.
The Doctor directed her toward the main data terminal, saying, “Seven, I need you to look at this right away. For the last several days I have been taking scans of Captain Eden’s quantum signatures.”
“Why?” Seven asked.
“Never mind that,” the Doctor persisted. “These were taken less than an hour ago while she was in contact with the barrier between normal space and the anomaly.”
Star Trek: Voyager - 041 - The Eternal Tide Page 33
