“It could be that navigating this system is more complicated than we thought.”
“But we don’t know for sure.”
“Not unless we stick around for a little while to map.”
Chakotay glanced at Janeway, silently asking whether she wished to do what Harry suggested. The captain shook her head once: No. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Harry. Let’s be on our way, Ensign.”
Once again, Voyager eased forward, then shuddered along her beam like a long boat hitting the crest of a wave. Knowles looked over her shoulder questioningly, and Chakotay urged her on. In a moment they would be clear of the turbulence, and after a quick check they could be in warp. Later, he and Kathryn would have a conversation about helping wayfarers and what that did to crew morale, but for now he had to admit that he was enjoying watching Captain Ziv. How often would Voyager be able to perform such a great favor at so little cost to themselves?
The ship shuddered once more, the deck trembled, and Chakotay saw in his mind one of the great salmon of the American Northwest leaping up a waterfall. Of course, he thought, not many salmon leap up a waterfall dragging a giant bottom-feeder behind them. Not the kindest image he could conjure, but the Monorhan vessel was a great, ungainly thing. Comparing it to any kind of fish was almost a compliment. Glancing up at the screen, Chakotay saw the blue containment field flicker once, then grow dark, then flash and disappear. The Monorhan drive unit slid away behind them, inertia keeping them moving at almost twenty percent of light speed.
“All stop,” Janeway ordered. “What the hell is going on?”
“Engine room,” Chakotay called. “What happened to the tractor beam? We lost the transport. She’s slicing off to the starboard side.”
The main viewscreen flickered then, and for a brief moment Chakotay thought he saw Mateo staring at them, an expression of hopeless dread etched on his features, but the image disappeared before Chakotay could be sure what he had seen.
The view switched back to the external cameras and all of them watched as the great wallowing drive section broke in half like a glacier calving an iceberg. For a split second, the sight was inexpressibly beautiful as the transport shattered into millions of pieces, each shard as sharp and shiny as precious gems, as if a giant had scattered a handful of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and opals across the face of the heavens. A moment later, the first gondola began to disintegrate, followed by another, then another and another…
Chapter 5
Disaster plus 1 minute
From her workstation in astrometrics, Seven of Nine coolly watched the Monorhan drive unit and the passenger units dissolve into what she judged the naked human eye would perceive as slivers of ice. Alone as she was, Seven did not feel the need to do anything to acknowledge the phenomenon other than to ask the computer to select one of the larger pieces and perform an analysis. While the computer worked, Seven adjusted the sensor arrays she controlled from her station and projected a long-range view of the scene.
In the lower right-hand corner of the data display she marked a pinprick of light that was Voyager. Backtracking, she marked the spots where the transport disintegrated. Farther back along their course, she marked the coordinates where both ships experienced tremors. She noted the distance between the disturbances and their relative distance from the disaster. Quickly overlaying the scene with readings from all of Voyager’s sensors, Seven attempted to find a direct correlation, but found none. Background radiation from the nearby white dwarf was very high, but she had already known this. She had also already found some exotic high-energy particles in nearby space, but nothing so unusual as to warrant attention.
Seven required less than five minutes to complete this handful of operations, during which time the remains of the Monorhan vessel began to disperse in a predictable Newtonian spray. If they encountered no obstacles, the pieces would continue on their current courses until the universe expired, several billion years hence. Seven idly calculated the percentage of particles that would likely intersect another object while watching indicators flash on her console that told her Voyager was performing emergency maneuvers.
As new data rolled in, Seven catalogued the likely questions Janeway and her advisors would ask when the inevitable meeting was called, and began scripting replies. Seven worked diligently, her outward demeanor unblemished by a ripple of concern. An idle question flitted through her mind: What percentage of the debris from the Monorhan vessel could be attributed to an organic source? Her spectroscopic scans said that the chemical nature of the wreckage was homogeneous, but she might be able to fine-tune the scans. Another thought intruded: Why would I want to do that? What difference does it make?
Setting the thoughts aside, Seven returned to her preparations. She noted that the corner of her mouth was twitching slightly and, subconsciously, Seven’s system manager ordered a small contingent of nanoprobes to massage and repair the muscles. Twitching would not do. Twitching was inefficient, and, more important, imperfect. It would not do at all.
Disaster plus 5 minutes, 40 seconds
* * *
Chakotay had never heard a sound like the one that erupted from the Monorhans when the transport disintegrated—a shrieking howl that spiraled in and out of the ultrasonic, making his sinuses and eardrums ache. His first fear was that the Monorhans would think that Voyager had devised the disaster, and, indeed, the youngest had turned toward Janeway and assumed what Chakotay had interpreted as a threatening stance. Tuvok must have agreed, because he drew his hand phaser and pointed it at the youth, who did not even seem to notice. Fortunately, Captain Ziv did and called to his crewman in a series of sharp rasping clicks. The young man backed away from the captain immediately and joined his fellow crewmen, who had fallen into a ring around their captain.
Captain Janeway recovered more quickly than Chakotay, calling to the helm to stop, then ordered a sweep of the sector for survivors. Chakotay didn’t see how there could be any. He kept staring at the main monitor, the sensors locked on to the spreading field of…what was it? Debris? Could they even call it that? The ship hadn’t exploded or even broken up; in his Maquis days, Chakotay had seen more than his fair share of ships die that way. But this…It made no sense. The Monorhan transport had simply disintegrated.
Shaking himself, feeling the sense of shock receding, Chakotay climbed the three steps to the secondary scanning station beside Tuvok’s and began replaying the sensor logs. Tuvok was doing the same, but his attention was focused primarily on sweeps of the area. Gods of my father, the idea of an attack didn’t even occur to me. “Anything?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Tuvok said.
“So it wasn’t an attack?”
“I would not presume to make such an assumption. Let us just say, the probability is growing lower with each passing second that we remain alive.”
As he studied the sensor logs, pieces began to click into place. “We have to get back into their system.”
“Agreed,” Tuvok said, “but bear in mind that we do not know how this area of space will affect us if we stay too long.”
“I have to speak to the captain, make sure she understands what’s happening.”
“Will she not be preoccupied with our guests?”
Glancing across the bridge, Chakotay saw the captain and Neelix herding the Monorhans toward her ready room and silently agreed with their decision. Better that the grieving aliens should try to absorb what had just happened in relative privacy. How many refugees had Ziv said were on the transport? Twelve thousand? Did that include crew? He shook his head. Did the number even matter? He looked around the bridge and tried to guess what Voyager’s crew might be thinking. Is this our fate? he wondered. All because we slowed down for a minute at a binary star, and that was just precisely long enough to put us in precisely the spot where we almost collided with a wandering refugee? What were the odds? In the entire great galaxy, what were the chances these two ships should encounter one other? Chakotay shook his head a
gain and tried to recall which of the Great Spirits had such a sardonic sense of mischief. Why, Coyote, the Trickster, of course. Then, in a moment of cross-cultural referencing that Chakotay could only ever attribute to stress, he recalled that in Greek legend the warrior Odysseus was often referred to as the Trickster. And what was another word for one on an odyssey?
Voyager.
Disaster plus 7 minutes
* * *
Don’t call me, B’Elanna Torres thought as she raced from station to station, checking readouts and consulting with her experts. Don’t call down here and ask me to explain what just happened because you know, you already know I don’t know!
B’Elanna’s combadge chirped, but she ignored it as she studied the data coming in through the sensors. The shields had momentarily collapsed when Voyager had encountered an energy surge, but came back up again almost immediately. Readings showed space around them was closer to “normal” than anything they had found since approaching the binary system.
Her badge chirped again, this time followed by a voice. “B’Elanna? Can you hear me?”
Harry. B’Elanna considered answering. Harry would know better than to ask stupid questions.
Tapping her badge, B’Elanna said, “Torres here. Things are a little tense down here, Harry, so make it quick. I’m busy.”
“We’re all busy, B’Elanna,” Harry snapped. “I just watched a transport disintegrate with the captain standing about three meters away. Don’t you think that might introduce some tension into my life?”
B’Elanna winced. There weren’t many people she was less likely to become friends with than the optimistic, career-oriented young Ensign Kim, but life on Voyager had produced many stranger pairings. (Like you and your boyfriend, B’Elanna thought sardonically.) The words came hard, but she knew she should say them: “Sorry, Harry. Go ahead.”
“Never mind,” Harry said, his voice sounding less frayed. “I just wanted to let you know what we’ve found so you don’t make yourself too crazy.”
“Well?”
“The problem wasn’t in the shields,” Harry said. “The problem was with the subatomic structure of the transport and everything and everyone on it. I ran my scans past the Doctor and he agrees with my theory: All of the matter in the system has subtly different properties. As soon as we got outside the range of the white dwarf, conditions were too different. The forces that held the atoms together collapsed.”
B’Elanna held her peace for a count of five, then said, “You call me crazy? That’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard. How can the laws of physics be so different in such a localized area?”
“I don’t know,” Harry rasped. “And I don’t know how long we can be here and not be affected. We need to explain this to the captain….”
The word “captain” reminded B’Elanna that Ziv and his hara had been on the bridge when their ship had crumbled into shards. “What happened to the Monorhans on Voyager? Did they…?”
“…Disintegrate? No, they’re all right. We stopped before we crossed completely into normal space. Captain Janeway has them in her ready room, trying to calm things down, explain….” He paused, collecting himself. “I don’t even know what to tell her. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“None of us has ever seen anything like this. That’s what we say every day around here until we do see it. And then we deal with it.” Harry did not reply, and B’Elanna feared that she might have overwhelmed him. Reeling herself in, she said, “I haven’t seen all the sensor logs yet. I can come up in a little bit so we can run them together.”
“Yeah,” Harry said. “Sure. Do you want to rendezvous in astrometrics and use the big screen?”
“Will Seven be there?”
“Probably. It’s her domain.”
“Then, no,” B’Elanna said. “I don’t.”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on her, B’Elanna. She tries.”
“She tries to be annoying,” B’Elanna spat. “And smug and superior. And she succeeds. You should stop treating her like she’s a human being, Harry. She’s not. She’s a machine in the shape of a human being.”
“And you’re an engineer,” Harry said. “So you should really get along.”
“Shut up, Harry. I have work to do.”
“We all have work to do. Come up when you have time.”
Disaster plus 10 minutes
* * *
“Gentlemen, fellow sapients, my friends…” The Monorhan’s clicking and thrumming was almost deafening in the relatively close quarters of Captain Janeway’s ready room, but Neelix doggedly continued to try to get the aliens’ attention. “I don’t know what we can do at this time, in the face of such a tragedy, but if there’s anything…anything at all…” But it was no use; the Monorhans had drawn into a tight circle around their captain, each one facing inward, chirping madly. Helplessly, he offered, “Perhaps a nice cup of tea?” then almost smacked himself on the forehead. Who would want tea at a time like this? He realized the answer in an instant: I do. Deciding he could do nothing else for the Monorhans until they decided to calm down, Neelix slipped around the group to the replicator.
“Oolong tea,” he said into the pickup. “Hot.” The mug of tea appeared a moment later, and two seconds after Neelix lifted it clear of the replicator, the youngest Monorhan, Diro, shuddered, dropped his shoulders, and pivoted to face Neelix.
The Monorhan’s face convulsed and he covered his nose, saying, “That smell! What is it?!” A moment later, the other four Monorhans were holding their broad noses and backing away into the corner. One of them retched and gagged.
“Neelix!” the captain shouted. “Your tea! The smell is making them sick!”
Hastily, Neelix replaced the mug of pungent tea on the replicator and punched the Recycle button. The air above the pad wavered and the drink was once again reduced to its component molecules. “Sorry about that! I should have thought to ask. There are more than a few humans that don’t take to oolong.”
The captain was holding her forehead and wearing one of her I’m going to hurt you, I just haven’t decided how expressions. Possibilities began spinning through his mind, but Neelix decided his time would best be served trying to placate the Monorhans. “My friends, I must apologize! I had no idea this substance was so offensive to you. It’s hardly common here on Voyager, but…but…” He knew he was making a complete fool of himself, but he didn’t know what else to say. Despite his vast experience in dealing with individuals of other species, he knew how easy it was to make mistakes of this sort. “Perhaps I should just take my leave for now….”
“Perhaps that would be best,” the captain said, again calm. “But could you ask Commander Chakotay to step in as soon as he has a few minutes?”
“Yes, Captain. My friends, again…” Neelix moved closer to the Monorhans, hoping that he could convey his concern. To his relief, Diro stood and briefly clasped hands with him. “If there’s anything I can do,” he murmured one more time, but he knew that the sad truth was that there was nothing he could do. At times like this, there was nothing to do but pull your grief to you and try to make an accommodation with it. Neelix believed he knew that better than anyone on Voyager, but he also knew it was something no one could teach another.
Out on the bridge, all was relatively calm, though Neelix could feel the undercurrent of tension. No one understood what had just happened. Neelix had boundless admiration for the crew of Voyager, had seen them come together as a team on countless occasions to battle opponents that appeared unbeatable. But it was one thing to ready yourself to fight Species 8472 or the Kazon, and another thing entirely to, figuratively speaking, escort a pleasant stranger on a stroll and then have the stranger explode on his front lawn. Everyone, he decided, is going to be hungry.
Pausing only briefly to pass on the message from the captain to Commander Chakotay, Neelix scurried to the turbolift, all the while running through the list of ingredients for tonight’s menu.
Disaster plus 14 minutes
* * *
Janeway was overwhelmed by the need for a cup of coffee, but did not dare approach the replicator. Who knew what the Monorhans would think of Colombian dark roast? How many different alien species had been aboard Voyager in the past four years? Ten? Fifteen? Had there been a series of disasters anything like those that had plagued her ship and crew in the past…what was it? She glanced up at her chronometer and saw that less than five hours had passed since Harry Kim had first mentioned the anomalous readings. She wondered how much longer they would be here in the Monorhans’ system, then fell to thinking about whether they would ever be able to leave at all. Best to deal with the problems at hand.
“Captain Ziv,” Janeway begin. “Gentlemen…My sincere condolences on the deaths of your crewmates, your passengers, and no doubt what must have been your friends and members of your families.” She watched as the Monorhans, all of whom had been trying to regain their dignity since Neelix exited, sagged down into themselves. Yes, obviously, there had been members of their families in the disaster. “Please let me assure you that no one on my ship was responsible and that we’ll do everything we can to uncover the reason for this disaster. If there is an outside agent responsible, I will do everything in my power to bring that party to justice. If nothing else, please let me put you in contact with your government so you can inform them what has occurred.” A thought suddenly struck Janeway. “Could they have been watching us from your world? Is it possible they saw everything and are already trying to formulate a response?” Like a large bomb that we won’t see coming in this strange, warped region of space?
Ziv inhaled deeply, then exhaled, visibly collecting his resources. “I do not think so,” he said, then fell silent and lowered his head. Ziv’s hara moved closer until they were wrapped tightly around their captain, one or two dropping their heavy hands onto his shoulders. Finally, Ziv raised his head, straightened his shoulders, and continued. “I formally request that you transport me and my hara back to my homeworld.”