“So you’ve always had the Key?” she repeated.
He sighed and hung his head. One difference between windows and forcefields, he noted, was that forcefields didn’t mist up when you sighed on them. “My mother gave it to me. When Gora’s plans to go find Gremadia become all-consuming and she sensed that my sire would join him, she took the Key and hid it, thinking they wouldn’t leave without it.”
“She was wrong.”
“Obviously. And by the time they were getting ready to leave, she was so terrified of what would happen if anyone discovered she had the Key that she just left it where it was.”
“Out of curiosity, what does it look like?” she asked. “I thought I searched through every piece of property you owned and I don’t remember ever finding anything that looked like it could be the Key.”
Kaytok brushed a large knuckle against his chin, then decided, Why not tell her? “It was in the music box,” he said. “I kept it on my shelf next to the bed. And inside that was a small gray metal box whose top was welded shut. Do you remember?”
Kaytok could swear he saw Sem’s pupils dilate at the memory of the box. “Of course,” she said. “I used to play the music box in the middle of the night sometimes when you were asleep. I thought the metal box was just the workings.”
“No.”
“But the metal box was sealed shut. How do you know the Key was in there?”
“My mother told me,” Kaytok said. “Why should I doubt her?”
If she hadn’t already been sitting, Kaytok believed, Sem would have fallen over from the shock. “It could have been mine at any time,” she finally exclaimed. “The greatest weapon of our age, of any age.”
“Why do you think it’s a weapon?”
“What else could it be?” Sem asked. “It killed Dagan. Why would anyone else be different?”
Kaytok cocked his head in wonder. “If you were sane,” he said, surprised by his own honesty (it helped to have a forcefield between them), “you’d realize what a specious conclusion that is.”
Sem released a thrum of anger so passionate, Kaytok felt it in his nasal passages. “I am the sanest person you’ve ever known,” she said. “If nothing else, I’m sane enough to know you shouldn’t give the Key to an alien. Or have you changed your mind?”
“I haven’t. Gora told me to give the Key ‘to her’ so she could free him. I can’t imagine you using any key to free anyone. That’s not how your mind works.”
Without warning, Sem rushed at him, causing the humming blue wall to buzz angrily. Though he knew she could not reach him, Kaytok flinched. Recovering, he said, “Be careful, or you’ll hurt your child.”
Now it was Sem’s turn to be startled. Stepping away from the barrier, she wrapped her arms protectively around her midsection. “Who told you?”
“Ziv,” Kaytok said, more than a little embarrassed to enjoy her discomfort. “You don’t care what rules you break, do you?”
Sem took a half step back away from the barrier, but did not otherwise reply.
“He was your shi-harat, but you thought you needed to bind him to you even tighter.”
Sem’s mouth moved, but no words came out.
“How could you have done such a thing? How could you ever be trusted to free anyone? You should resign your position when the Voyagers turn you over to the authorities tomorrow.”
Arms wrapped even more tightly around her, Sem turned away and stared at the back wall. Kaytok watched her for several moments, then turned away himself to stare out at the arc of his world. So close, he thought. Yet so far away.
* * *
“I know it might not seem like much,” Kaytok said, setting the box down on Janeway’s desk, “but this is considered one of the most valuable religious artifacts on my world. My grandsire asked me to give it to you.”
Janeway regarded the rock with mingled curiosity and respect. Kaytok had just returned from the surface of Monorha after personally delivering Sem into custody. “Thank you, Kaytok,” she said. “Did he say what I was supposed to do with it?”
“No,” Kaytok said, “Not exactly. He seemed to think you’d figure it out.”
The captain lifted the box, then set it on the small table by her desk. “In our line of work, sir, I often find we must make things up as we go along.” She unfastened the clasp and studied the relic before lifting it from the container. Kaytok flinched. “Is there something I should know about this artifact?”
Kaytok shook his head. “Only if you’re interested in superstitious nonsense. In my vision, Gora assured me the key wouldn’t hurt you as it did Dagan. But you should be cautious.”
Janeway extended her hand and Kaytok shook it. When they broke their hand clasp, the captain sat down again and said, “You may be interested to know that I spoke with Shalla Kiiy earlier today and she also thanked us for our efforts, though I got the impression she was not certain precisely what happened.”
“Are any of us?” B’Elanna asked. “Do we know why the Blue Eye collapsed into a singularity?”
“Not yet,” the captain said, and turned to Seven. “I think you should put that on your list of priorities as soon as you’re sure you’re feeling better.”
“I am fine, Captain,” Seven said, glancing at B’Elanna for only a second. “Returning to a collective state was…nostalgic…but I have come to highly value my individuality.”
Janeway smiled. “I’m glad,” the captain said. “Then get back to work. Kaytok, again, thank you for the gift and thank you for your help.”
Kaytok clicked once, but said nothing more. They made their farewells, and then B’Elanna escorted him to the transporter room for the final time.
* * *
Later, after a normal shift in engineering (during which she walked from component to component and explained all the changes she had made while Joe Carey frantically recorded and scribbled supplementary notes), B’Elanna returned to her cabin and, finding it empty, sighed gratefully, enjoying the solitude. She must have locked the door, because an hour later she awoke on the couch to the sound of the door chime. Rising, she opened the door and found Tom standing there, a supper tray in his hands. “Hey,” he said. “I figured I’d be able to open the door. Someone should fix this.”
“Oh, yeah?” B’Elanna asked, taking the tray from Tom’s hands. “Like who?”
“Like the chief engineer maybe?”
“After she’s finished eating,” B’Elanna replied, heading toward the table where they usually ate their shared meals. Halfway across the room, B’Elanna stopped short, suddenly overcome by déjà vu.
Tom ran into her back and said, “What’s wrong? Did I forget something?”
“No,” she said and set the tray down. “I just remembered…” She smiled gently and turned around to face her lover. “You made me think of something…” Looking down at her, Tom grinned, mildly confused, but untroubled. “I missed you.” Reaching up, she took his face between her hands and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You know,” she said, “we’re supposed to be together. Don’t you?”
Tom Paris enveloped her in his arms, pulled her close, and made B’Elanna Torres feel safe, warm, and wanted. She rubbed her nose against the side of his, and was infinitely gratified when he said, “Of course we are,” and returned her kiss on the cheek.
* * *
Down in her cargo bay, Seven of Nine awoke.
“Your regeneration cycle,” the computer warned, “is not complete.”
Seven reached up and touched her fingertips to her cheek. The sensation of a warm kiss lingered. She kept her eyes shut for several seconds as the feeling faded, something like a smile on her lips. Finally, she lowered her hand and said, “Continue regeneration.”
Epilogue
“I really hate this system,” Harry Kim said. He stared up at the giant display in astrometrics and struggled to make sense of the data flowing in from the main sensors. They had been at this for two days now and as each new theory for how the Monorha
n system could exist in its current configuration was disproved, he found he had to reluctantly return to this flippant remark—namely, that some power created the system to its current specifications for some unknowable reason.
“Your feelings about the system have been noted and logged, Ensign,” Seven of Nine said. “Repeating this litany does not bring us any closer to finding a…” Seven abruptly stopped talking.
Harry looked up from the console where he was working to see what was wrong. “Seven?”
Seven of Nine pointed at the holographic display at the center of the room. Far to the left of the tank was the central star, depicted as a writhing ball of gas. Arrayed at irregular intervals from the sun were the planets, three in all, then a patch of deformed space that was the tiny singularity.
Now, on the right edge of the tank, the outer edge of the system, Harry saw a new deformity, a much larger one. He asked, “Did you change the display?”
“I did not.” Seven took half a step closer like she might be able to see more clearly. A very human gesture, Harry reflected absently, almost as if her mind did not want to have to try to process what she was seeing.
“And your instruments are registering correctly?” Seven took her eyes off the display just long enough to glare at Harry. “Sorry,” he said, then concluded, “That’s another singularity, isn’t it?”
Seven nodded slowly.
“Where did it come from?”
“There is no way to know for sure, Ensign. We must play back the sensor readings from that sector.”
“I think the captain would want to see this.”
“Agreed. I will call her.”
I really hate this system, Harry thought, then turned his attention to the sensor logs.
After the extreme activity of the past two days, every member of the crew acted like they were starved, which pleased Neelix tremendously. Unfortunately, this meant the Talaxian had to break his promise to return to sickbay immediately with the nourishment. This troubled Neelix greatly; he considered Mr. Vulcan his pet project. Fortunately, as busy as the dining hall was, sickbay seemed quiet and sedate when Neelix finally returned with his laden tray. Dark, even.
“Tuvok?” Neelix called, surprised by the low lighting. When no answer came, the Talaxian called out softly, “Doctor?”
“Please state the nature of the medical…Oh, hello, Mr. Neelix.” The Doctor scowled. “Where was I this time?”
“I don’t know,” Neelix said. He stretched his neck to look about. “And where’s Mr. Tuvok?”
The Doctor followed Neelix’s gaze. “I don’t know,” he repeated.
Frowning, Neelix said, “Computer, locate Lieutenant Tuvok.”
“Lieutenant Tuvok is not aboard Voyager.”
Neelix blinked. “Not aboard…? Computer, how exactly did Tuvok leave the ship? And how long ago?”
“Lieutenant Tuvok departed Voyager in the shuttlecraft Shoemaker one hour, fifty-two minutes, and forty-three seconds ago.”
Neelix scowled and tapped his combadge. “Neelix to Janeway.”
“Go ahead,” came the reply.
“Ma’am, did you or Commander Chakotay authorize a shuttle launch in the last two hours?”
A pause. “No, we did not. What’s this about, Neelix?”
The Talaxian’s eyes widened. He looked at the Doctor, whose brow had furrowed in apparent confusion and concern.
“Captain,” Neelix began, “I think we have a problem.”
CONTINUED IN
STRING THEORY, BOOK 2:
FUSION
Glossary of Monorhan Terms
ati-harat: artisan in service to the rih-hara-tan
hara: group or pack
harat: male leader of a hara
haras: female leader of a hara
haran: male or female member of a hara
kuntafed: wild Monorhan animal
linuh-harat: seer/prophet, advisor to the rih-hara-tan
Protin: Monorha’s primary star
rih-hara-tan: leader of an entire Monorhan tribe who can establish the same psionic link with all tribe members that a harat or haras can with his/her hara
shalla: head of a secular committee of Monorhans, established by the Interim Emergency Council
Shi-harat: personal bodyguard to the rih-hara-tan
The Blue Eye: Monorha’s second star
wantain: snow
Acknowledgments
First, I have to thank the Voyager geeks, my collaborators, Kirsten Beyer and Heather Jarman. They’re the cocaptains of this particular vessel and they were kind enough to ask me aboard to play. Second, grateful thanks to Katie Fritz, without whom I never would have known enough about Voyager to have been in the position to be asked. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the cast, writers, production team, and artists responsible for Star Trek: Voyager.
I wouldn’t have been able to complete this project without the constant affection, assistance, teaching, and encouragement (whether you knew it or not) from Barbara Gladney, Annarita Gentile, and Joan White. Thank you, ladies. Also, many, many thanks and head rubs for my son, Andrew, and kisses for my sweetie, Helen, for their patience and love.
Last, as ever, thanks to Marco. I owe you everything for giving me the chance to do this work I love so much.
About the Author
JEFFREY LANG has authored or coauthored several Star Trek novels and short stories, including Immortal Coil, The Left Hand of Destiny (with J.G. Hertzler), “Foundlings” in the DS9 anthology Prophecy and Change, and “Mirror Eyes” (with Heather Jarman) in the anthology Tales of the Dominion War. He is likely currently behind deadline on his next project. He lives in Bala Cynwyd, PA, with his partner, Helen, his son, Andrew, an irascible cat named Samuel, and a fearful hamster named Scritchy.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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