* * *
Ziv found the entire ship astonishing, a marvel of clean, rounded edges and efficient design, but nothing amazed him as much as the engine room. Where his vessel’s engine bay was a cacophonous cavern of clattering, rattling moving parts watched over by clicking, stuttering, frantic harai, this place was like a temple overseen by slow, solemn acolytes who served an altar of coruscating blue light.
Studying the scene with reverent awe, Ziv’s peace of mind was shattered when a small, lithe figure abruptly planted herself before the alien commander and began barking sharp, staccato sentences. For a brief, confused moment, Ziv thought the newcomer might be some kind of priestess cursing them for their insolence, but, focusing on her words more carefully, he finally understood: she was an engineer.
The commander, to his credit, seemed immune to the engineer’s scathing tone and said simply, “Captain Ziv, our chief engineer, B’Elanna Torres.”
The engineer simply stared at Ziv for a moment as if mildly surprised to find him there, then said, “How are you?”
Ziv knew that she did not particularly care, but having met enough of these creatures to know it was a good idea to stay on their good side, Ziv said, “Dazzled. Before I came here, I had doubts that this tiny ship could draw the great behemoth we travel in across the heavens. But now, seeing this, my doubts are banished.”
Looking around her, the engineer threw back her shoulders, and Ziv felt a great swell of pride emanate from her. “Yeah,” she said, “it’s pretty impressive. Glad you could come see it.”
“The honor is ours,” Ziv said, then took a step back, allowing the commander to speak to his subordinate. Though he could not hear their words, Ziv could tell from their posture that Chakotay was placating the engineer, perhaps even reassuring her.
“…Tractor beam generator isn’t…” Ziv heard the engineer say as her voice rose above the pulsing conduits.
“…Wouldn’t ask anything of you or the engines that…” the commander rebutted. “…Just have to get them moving and then Newton’s driving…”
One of the passing acolytes nodded to Ziv as he approached a control surface and asked if he had any questions. Ziv thanked him politely, then nodded toward the engineer. “Is that one your haras?” he asked.
“Our…what?” the acolyte asked.
“Your…” Ziv searched for a word that came close to the meaning. “Is she your group’s organizer, primary planner, your…”
“Oh! Yes!” the acolyte said, comprehension dawning. “She’s the chief.”
“Chief,” Ziv said, savoring the flavor of the word and feeling its meaning in his mind at the same moment. “Ah, excellent.”
* * *
By the time the captain (trailed by Ensign Kim) arrived in astrometrics, Seven of Nine had completed modeling local space and organized her thoughts. Knowing she would have the captain’s attention for only a few minutes, Seven knew she must transfer the critical information as efficiently as possible. When she had been part of the collective, data distribution had been effortless, instantaneous, and universal; such was not the case with her crewmates on Voyager.
As much as she had come to cherish her individuality, Seven was frustrated by the feeling of isolation it provoked. There were things she knew, important information locked away in her Borg databases, and she wanted very badly to share those things with others, but it seemed to her that Captain Janeway—all of them, really, but the captain more than any other—was always fomenting obstacles to her distributing that information under the guise of helping her become more “human.” When opportunities such as this one arose, when the captain set aside time in order to allow Seven to help elucidate a situation, she deeply resented distractions.
Lieutenant Torres was being a distraction.
No sooner had Seven begun her recitation than Torres hailed Captain Janeway with irrelevant questions about tractor beam performance in heavy inertial situations. This was precisely the sort of query engineering databases had been created to answer, but Torres could not be bothered with such a simple solution to her problem, especially if asking the captain also gave her the opportunity to again voice her opinions about the wisdom of assisting the Monorhans in the manner Captain Janeway was considering.
Unfortunately, the captain seemed to be enjoying the discussion about tractor beam specs; her face was radiant with what looked like joy, though Seven knew she sometimes misinterpreted emotional states. Five minutes of inane chatter later, Janeway was agreeing to meet Chakotay and the Monorhans on the bridge so that the engineer could test their ideas. Seven felt her agitation growing, but bit back the desire to comment. Torres was an important, if annoying, member of the community. Straightening her back, Seven inhaled deeply and attempted to clear her mind.
“I’m sorry, Seven,” the captain said as soon as she signed off. “I have only a few minutes now, but I want to hear what you’ve found out.”
“Two things of note, Captain,” Seven said, beginning her recitation. “There is an eighty-one percent likelihood that the Monorhans are from a planet in the white dwarf binary system.”
“Yes, Seven. Captain Ziv confirmed that while we were walking to sickbay.”
“Of course, Captain. Though, of course, he could have been lying. I am merely saying that, statistically speaking, it is very likely.”
“Why would he lie?” Ensign Kim asked.
“Why does anyone lie, Ensign?” Seven asked. “I am merely observing that sometimes they do. In this case, there is an eighty-one percent chance the Monorhan is being truthful.”
“All right, Seven. What else?”
Seven touched a control and brought up a display on the main viewscreen. “This is a three-dimensional model showing the density of the local subspace layer. Of course, a fourth- or even fifth-dimensional model would be more accurate, but there are limits to what I can accomplish with this equipment in a compressed time frame.”
“Seven…I have three minutes.”
“Of course,” Seven said, and internally chastised herself for falling prey to the same editorializing she had mentally accused Torres of committing. “Please note the extreme irregularities,” she said while highlighting a spiky patch. “Subspace can usually be described as a homogeneous layer. This section I’ve indicated has the white dwarf at its center.”
The captain and Kim studied the display for several seconds before either of them commented. Finally, Kim asked, “But what does it mean?”
“It means,” the captain said, “that whatever we’re dealing with here, it’s not the same sort of subspace instability seen at the Hekaras Corridor. I studied those subspace density models for that area—every captain in Starfleet did—and they looked nothing like this.” She contemplated the model for another moment, then turned back to Seven. “So then what are we looking at?”
“I do not know, Captain, but something has profoundly affected the texture and density of subspace in this area. The energies required to do such a thing are…I would like to say ‘inconceivable’…”
“Except here we are discussing it,” the captain said. “Do you think this represents a threat to the ship?”
“I have been pondering that very question, Captain, but so far I have come to only one conclusion: The Monorhans have collectively placed themselves in a situation of great risk to escape this system.”
Captain Janeway responded, “And there may be wisdom in their decision.”
Seven nodded.
“All right then. Thank you, Seven. Continue working on this problem. I would like to know a little more about what we’re seeing here, though I’ll gladly do it from a distance.”
“There’s more, Captain,” Seven said. “I believe I understand why we did not see the Monorhans until we almost collided with them.”
Before the captain could respond, her combadge beeped again. “Captain Janeway to the bridge, please,” Commander Chakotay said. “We’re ready to move.”
After responding, the
captain asked, “Is that information critical to our current situation?”
“Perhaps. I believe the extreme folds in subspace are affecting the curvature of space-time in our continuum.”
“Which means?” Harry Kim asked.
“Which means, Ensign, that when the ship begins to move, we will likely be in for a rough ride.”
* * *
Janeway permitted her guests to move around the bridge escorted only by Neelix. Now that they were all together again, the Monorhans seemed to prefer to remain no more than an arm’s length away from each other, all except for the youngest, Diro, who seemed more easygoing than the others. She wondered what else Chakotay had observed about their guests in the time they were together, but knew she could not leave the bridge for a private consultation. Catching her first officer’s eye, she indicated he should join her near Tuvok’s station. “Tell me what you think of our guests,” she said.
“If I were speaking as a xenologist,” Chakotay remarked, wearing a small grin, “I’d say that we should spend a year with them. We’ve encountered some fascinating species since we’ve come to the Delta Quadrant, but I’d have to put them near the top of the list.”
“They are quite something, aren’t they?”
“Have you noticed how they orient themselves around the captain, how he’s always in at least their peripheral vision?” Chakotay asked, some academic fervor creeping into his voice. “And the subvocalizations? I don’t think they even realize they’re doing it sometimes. The sounds are as subconscious to them as a blink or finger twitch to us.”
“Why can’t the translator understand them?”
“Because they’re not using words, Captain,” Chakotay said softly. “The sounds are expressions of emotion. And there’s something else going on, too. I’m not sure what. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“Pardon my intrusion, Captain,” Tuvok said, leaning forward slightly. “But I believe I have something to add.”
“Go ahead.”
“I have a headache,” Tuvok said.
Janeway and Chakotay looked at each other, both struggling to maintain neutral expressions. Janeway turned back to the security officer and prompted, “And?”
Tuvok pointed at his temple. “Here,” he said. “My frontal lobe. Typically, this part of my head aches whenever I overtax my psionic abilities. On several occasions when I worked with Kes, I experienced this unique form of pain. And I experience it whenever the Monorhans communicate subvocally.”
Chakotay asked, “You think they’re communicating telepathically?”
Tuvok shook his head. “Not necessarily. But the Monorhans possess some form of psionic ability, and it is related to their subvocalizing.”
Janeway pondered this for several seconds, then offered, “A hunting language?” Tuvok’s eyebrow shot up. “Just something I was thinking about on our way up here from sickbay. The way they move, the way they stay so they always sense where the others are. They remind me of descriptions I’ve read of primitive peoples who coordinate hunts with whistles and clicks.”
“The Yamamato of Earth,” Tuvok cited, nodding. “Or the Ki’tai of Severus VI.”
“Exactly.”
“And this could have developed into some kind of psionic ability?” Chakotay asked.
“More likely the other way around,” Janeway said. “They survived and became a successful hunting species because of the psionic ability.” She gave her security chief an approving nod. “Thank you, Tuvok. Good work.”
* * *
The human captain and two of her hara—her crew—were standing at the opposite side of the bridge discussing Ziv and his hara. Not just his hara, but his entire species. While their conversation did not bother him, he was surprised that they should converse in such close quarters. He was even a bit insulted, until he considered that these aliens might not possess hearing as acute as his people’s.
Another, more disturbing thought hit him then: Perhaps she knew precisely how good a Monorhan’s hearing was. Perhaps she wanted Ziv to hear what they were saying. Psionic. The word held a very specific meaning for the aliens, especially the brown one with pointed ears; Ziv grasped the general concept, though the specifics were vague. Simply put, the aliens knew that he and his hara could bind their minds in a way that the Voyagers could not.
“Captain?” The voice came from over their heads, and for a moment Ziv thought one of his hara was contacting him subvocally.
“Go ahead, B’Elanna,” Captain Janeway said. “We’re all here.”
Ah, the engineer.
“We’re ready to lock on with the tractor beam and try this out. I can’t promise how fast we’ll go under the circumstances, but even with just the impulse engines…”
“Understood, B’Elanna. Do your best. And, B’Elanna?”
“Yes?”
“When we get out of the disruptive area, do you think you could extend the warp field to include the Monorhan vessel?”
The engineer did not respond immediately, and Ziv imagined her consulting the oracle of her engines. Presently, she said, “We’ll have to move at a leisurely pace, Captain. Nothing more stressful than warp two, I’d say.”
Captain Janeway glanced at the pilot, who appeared to be plotting a course. “Agreed, Captain. Warp two point one, to be precise. Should take us about four days at that speed.”
Ziv thrummed involuntarily and felt his hara’s responses in his inner ear. Four days! Their collective exhilaration threatened to hammer him into unconsciousness, and he had to signal them all to silence. The Voyagers were staring at them all intently, and the one named Tuvok was massaging his forehead. When he had his thoughts under control again, Ziv looked at Captain Janeway, who asked, “Would that be acceptable, Captain Ziv?”
Ziv stared at her in stunned silence for several seconds, then settled on what he felt was an appropriate response. “We are all in your debt, Captain. I do not know what turn of fortune brought this encounter, but I am eternally grateful. I could not be sure how many of these passengers would survive the crossing, but now all will.”
“We’re happy to help,” Captain Janeway said, and Ziv could see in her eyes that these were not merely words. All around them, he could feel the goodwill of her crew. Bowing his head, Ziv wondered what he had done to deserve such kindness, then cast aside the question as unworthy. The Blessed All-Knowing Light taught that this life is fraught with difficulty and that compassion is a gift that should never be refused.
Quoting the Texts, Ziv said only, “‘The universe is kinder than any of us has any reason to expect.’”
This seemed to please the captain, and she turned away from Ziv smiling. “B’Elanna?” she called. “Ready when you are.”
The pilot put the image of Ziv’s ship up on the large viewscreen. Through his feet and deep in the pit of his gut, Ziv sensed the first of a series of deep throbs, the vessel’s great engines coming to life. And not the transluminal engines, he thought, shaking his head in wonder. The things we could learn from these people…The bridge lighting changed subtly, and then Ziv saw that it was because the image on the screen had changed: his transport was sheathed in deep blue.
“That’s our deflector—a shield,” the captain said. “To protect us as we travel.”
“I understand.” Then the wonder of the moment faded and he recalled the people deep in the vessel’s holds. “Captain,” he asked. “May I speak with the transport. My crew may be alarmed…”
“Of course,” Captain Janeway said, “though we have been in touch with them. They know what is about to happen in general terms. But hearing it coming from you…”
“Precisely.” The image of his transport shrank into the corner of the viewscreen and his second-in-command appeared. “Mateo,” Ziv said, then paused while his XO made the gesture of acknowledgment. “All is well?”
“Well and truly well, my captain. We will be under way soon, I understand, and moving very quickly.”
“You have no
idea, Mateo. I only regret that you have not been able to see this extraordinary ship.”
“There may still be time,” Captain Janeway said. “If you permit it.”
On the viewer, Mateo beamed happily. A talented officer, his second-in-command was also one of the few of his senior staff who saw their flight as some kind of great adventure. Yes, a visit to this alien vessel would be a fitting reward for his service. “We will discuss it when I return to the ship, Mateo. But for now, relax and tell the crew and passengers to do the same. Have you informed everyone what will be happening?”
“Word is filtering down through the holds, Captain. It is difficult, but I think most of them have the sense that something wonderful is about to occur.”
“More wonderful than even they know, Mateo,” Ziv said, not able to keep the joy from his words. “But perhaps it would be best to keep that between us now.” Mateo, sensing his captain’s keen excitement, grinned and agreed. “I will see you soon,” Ziv finished, and signed off.
“Let’s be on our way, then,” the captain ordered.
* * *
The pilot took this as permission and pressed a series of controls. “Tractor beam activated, Captain. We have the drive unit.” Pausing, Knowles checked her instruments. “All green. One-quarter impulse, Captain,” she said. Chakotay felt the ship lurch slightly under his feet. “Sorry about that,” the pilot said. “I must have miscalculated the mass a little.”
Chakotay checked the sensors, frowned at what he was seeing, then said, “Understood. Check your acceleration curve.”
“Will do. Acceleration normal.” Again, the ship shuddered.
“Ease off the throttle there, Knowles,” Chakotay said. “I don’t like that.”
“Me, either, sir,” the pilot said. “It’s not the engines. We’re encountering some kind of turbulence.”
“Harry,” Chakotay said pointing at the feed from the main sensors. “What am I looking at here?”
“I think we’ve reached the edge of normal space, Commander.”
“That can’t be right,” Chakotay said. “We shouldn’t be here so soon. Seven’s charts clearly show…”