The Mention That I Miss
By Morgan Stuart
Disclaimer: This story is not intended to infringe upon the rights of Paramount or any other Star Trek copyright holders.
Personal Note: This story is presented with grateful thanks to Kathy,
Kt, Ruth Ann, Maddie, Elizabeth, Margret, Larry, and the ORION Press
family. For Mother.
This story was first published in Delta Quadrant 7 by ORION Press in June 1998.
Historian's
Note: the events in this story take place after the fourth season Star
Trek: Voyager episode "Message in a Bottle."
Geoffrey: It isn't the power I feel deprived of; it's the mention
that I miss. There's no affection for me here. You wouldn't think I'd
want that, would you?
The Lion in Winter, James Goldman
The spirits seemed slow to speak. Or perhaps he was simply slow to hear. But he persisted, steadily drifting into the dreamscape, sitting cross-legged, repeating the custom of ancestors who had felt the heat of real fires before them and watched sparks leap and attack shadows beneath a real night sky. Here in his quarters the fire was absent, the blackness artificial. Yet the stillness remained sacred.
The metallic womb of Voyager held him, comforted him with rhythmic hum of its engines, the very heartbeat of the vessel. He waited there for his vision, for the voices welling up from atavistic blood to offer another generation's wisdom. Vulnerable, guileless, still. Open.
Then, through the veils of his trance, sudden and unexpected, contact was made.
/Spirits of my people, I am not alone here. What is this? Who is this what is it what oh father no what father --/
He was embraced. Overwhelmed. Eclipsed.
In the heartbeat before he collapsed, Chakotay saw all.
"Chakotay, can you hear me?"
No
movement stirred the calm of his swarthy features. "What... what is the
date?" His words slurred with the thickness of heavy sleep.
"Don't
you remember?" Janeway's whisper made her query sound all the more
anxious. She spared the doctor an apprehensive glance before returning
her full attention to the man on the biobed.
Only then did he
open his eyes, squinting against the antiseptic glare of sickbay's
lighting. "I remember... many things. My ancestors... my birth... even
my death -"
"You didn't die, Chakotay." She protectively touched his shoulder, as if to remind him of reality.
"Not
yet." The statement seemed painfully obvious, and he made it with stoic
certainty. Frustration swam in his dark eyes. "I wish I could
explain... I saw... everything. All at once. When it touched me."
"When
what touched you, Commander?" The doctor entered Chakotay's field of
vision opposite of Janeway, his smooth forehead wrinkled in concern.
"Was there something in your quarters when you collapsed? You've been
unconscious for several hours. Do you know what happened?"
Chakotay looked back and forth between them, searching for words to explain the indescribable. "It was... immense..."
"That's very helpful, Commander. Immense for a microbe, or immense for a mugato?"
Janeway's
hand shot up palm-first to quiet the doctor's sarcasm. "Chakotay, let's
try this from the top. Why don't you start with -"
The sickbay
door opened behind them, and Seven of Nine's husky voice interrupted
the captain's question. "Doctor, I require your assistance."
Still glaring at his patient, the doctor's posture betrayed his annoyance. "And what seems to be your trouble?"
"I
am... receiving... signals... voices..." Janeway and the doctor both
swiveled at her bewildered gasp, just in time to see the former Borg
sink to her knees, whitened fingers pressed to the implant at her
temple.
Before they could reach her, the very floors and walls of sickbay shuddered, throwing them to the deck.
"It's here," Chakotay whispered, closing his eyes, gripping the bed's edges, bracing himself.
"They," Seven amended from the floor, and lost consciousness.
"Tuvok, what's going on?" Janeway barked into her comm badge as she crawled with the EMH to Seven's side.
"Uncertain, Captain. It appears we have collided with three bodies of concentrated energy -"
"Where did they come from?"
The
doctor ran a scanner over the grey-clad inert form, swaying over it as
the ship shook. The lights flickered and made his movements appear
jerky, fitful.
"Captain," it was Kim's voice, shaking with the another jarring impact, "they just appeared out of nowhere -"
"Are they lifeforms?"
"Unknown," Tuvok admitted.
"Yes,"
Chakotay countered, rolling from the biobed, staggering toward Janeway
as the deck lurched beneath him. "Let me go with you." His request was
accepted with a curt nod.
Janeway shifted her attention to the EMH. "Doctor?"
"Seven
of Nine is unconscious, just like Commander Chakotay was. The condition
appears to be linked to the anomalous energy readings -"
"Agreed.
Do what you can for her." She reached out to grasp her first officer's
proffered arm, both of them clinging to each other as they tried to
straighten to a stand. "Red alert, Mister Tuvok. Shields up. Send out a
hail on all channels, Mister Kim. Chakotay and I are on our way." They
made it to the door before the next violent quake. "Let me know
immediately when Seven regains consciousness -"
The doors cut off the Captain's voice as the doctor gently placed the limp Seven on the newly abandoned biobed.
"Report." Janeway and Chakotay stumbled to their respective chairs, painted red with pulsing lights of warning.
"No response to hails. Captain -"
"Shields at 35%; we can't withstand the intensity of -"
"Wait! Now there's -"
"I'm reading - "
Nothing.
Silence
broke through the chorus of officers' voices, stunning everyone
speechless. No brilliant glow filled the viewscreen. No movement
shivered the deck. As quickly as the phenomenon had burst upon them, it
was gone.
From his position at the navigational console, Paris
turned to look at Kim as if to ask, "Is it over?" Kim shrugged. For a
moment no one spoke.
Then a loud voice tore through the calm.
The bridge crew started en masse. "Captain Janeway! This is the
Emergency Medical Holographic program to Captain Janeway! Respond,
please!"
"Janeway here."
"Oh, there you are. Really,
Captain, I don't know how you expect me to provide the excellence in
health care to which you are accustomed, when you feel free to
transport me and my patients at your whim from location to location
without even consulting with me."
Trading confused glances
with Chakotay, she pointed to the viewscreen. "On screen. Doctor, I
don't understand..." She caught her breath at the sight that met her.
The
EMH stood in Sandrine's, frowning with all the humor of a scolding
schoolmarm. The proprietress of the holographic establishment draped an
arm familiarly across his squared shoulder. Behind him Seven was
clearly visible, apparently oblivious to the relocation and resting on
the billiards table.
"Doctor, explain."
He shifted,
taken aback by her confusion. "I assumed that you had ordered this..."
his hand swept expansively, "questionable change of venue."
"I did nothing of the kind. Mister Kim?"
As
all eyes shifted to the ensign. Thick black locks fell forward as he
shook his head. "I can't get them back to sickbay. It's sealed..."
"Sealed? By what?" Janeway's voice grew deeper with urgency.
"I'm
getting energy readings off the sensors' scales. It... it looks
like..." He looked up, clearly aware of how bizarre his hypothesis
sounded. "It would seem that whatever was out there, is now in
sickbay."
Bursting into action, Tuvok was sounding an intruder
alert and heading for the lift before Kim's words were fully absorbed.
Voices played across the bridge, confirming that a security detail
would seal the deck and meet the Vulcan at the scene.
On the
viewscreen, the incredulous EMH looked out to meet the stunned eyes of
the bridge crew. An amorous Sandrine leaned in to plant a suggestive
kiss on his jawline, but no one seemed to notice.
"That's unacceptable. I will not have my crew held hostage on our own ship. I want some answers." Janeway paced back and forth, holding her chin in one hand as its fingers tapped an impatient rhythm across her lips. "Harry, still no sign of what's going on in there?"
"No,
the interference is too strong. All I can be sure of is that the
phenomenon's readings are completely confined to sickbay."
"Tuvok?"
"We are attempting to override the locking mechanisms at present, Captain."
"Keep
me updated." She continued to pace. Finally, she halted before her
first officer. "I need to know whatever you know about these beings."
Her rueful half-smile reflected a silent apology, as if to say, "I know
this was a personal experience, Chakotay, but we lack the luxury of
privacy right now."
He cleared his throat and drew a deep
breath. She took a step back, lowering herself to sit on her heels, in
the attempt to respect his space and allow him choose words precisely.
"I was meditating in my quarters when they contacted me. It was a...
spiritual?" - his brows drew together bemusedly at the inadequacy of
his terms - "encounter, not a physical one. For a moment, I could see
what they saw, as if they touched my mind and showed me a glimpse of
their thoughts. Captain, they are very advanced... they see through
time and space like we see through the air between us." Regret tugged
at his shoulders. "I couldn't take it all in."
Yes, she
understood. She had once known the breathtaking second of
enlightenment. But all she had left to her was the bereft emptiness of
its loss. From the corner of her eye she saw Paris staring intently at
her, sharing her thoughts. It had been some time since their experience
beyond the threshold of warp speed, but not that long.
Chakotay noted the haunted look of empathy in her eyes, and said no more.
"Their intentions?"
"Contact...
I'm not sure what beyond that. I sensed joy and bitterness, like any
sentient being might have, but no overarching violence. Of course, any
being so advanced might be able to mask its plans."
"True."
"Perhaps
Seven will have more insights to tell us when she recovers. Her Borg
enhancements may have detected things I couldn't perceive. I just
happened to be... 'open to certain possibilities'" - Janeway smiled
despite herself at his modest phrase - "when they tried to make
contact."
"Why Voyager?"
"I don't -"
"Captain?" Kim's fingers blurred across his console. "Something's attempting to beam onto the bridge -"
"Override."
"I can't, it's... transporting now."
The
center of the bridge began to shimmer. Chakotay and Paris both leaped
to their feet, the one drawing defensively close to Janeway and the
other poised for a preemptive strike.
A glow, a sparkle, and a
sudden solidification. Standing before them was the form of a young
humanoid woman. Tousled, lazy strawberry-blonde curls topped a slender,
tall form with pale skin that promised easy freckling. Her stance
suggested self-assurance, even haughtiness, and a mercurial temper. But
the blue eyes that efficiently scanned the bridge reflected a depth and
intelligence that Janeway immediately took seriously.
"Who are you? What is your business here?"
The
intruder ignored Janeway's questions. After studying the faces of the
officers, she put her hands on her hips impatiently and sighed. "Where
are you?" Her whisper seemed addressed to no one in particular.
Janeway and Chakotay traded questioning looks.
The
woman gasped then, and put her hands to her head. "Not like that! These
minds can't handle it. Just talk." As quickly as she had doubled over
in seeming pain, she straightened.
"ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" The metallic, inhuman, vaguely masculine voice emanated from Voyager's own communications system.
Janeway glanced to Kim, and he mouthed the expected answer to her unspoken question. "Sickbay."
"Yes,
I'm fine. Just don't do that again. It hurts." One finger continued to
rub a temple tenderly. She drew a breath to speak, but Janeway beat her
to it, eager to reestablish control.
"My name is Kathryn Janeway. I am the captain of this vessel. What do you want with us?"
"My
name is Nivyr. We require the use of your sickbay, your medical
equipment, and perhaps you and Mister Paris here," she jerked her chin
in his direction, and he raised an eyebrow, surprised that she knew his
name. "Otherwise, you may continue on the same heading and conduct
business as usual. This need not be hostile. But be assured that you
have no choice but to assist us."
Janeway bristled at the tone
of command in the young woman's voice. "We would be happy to discuss
this with you in a civilized manner, but you cannot just -"
"We
can and we will. And I assure you, Captain, you have no right to speak
of the manners of the civilized. We know better. So just listen,
cooperate, and we will leave as quickly as possible." Drawing herself
up to her full height and crossing her arms, she took a short,
swaggering step toward Janeway.
"We could take much more from
you than mere medical supplies and information. Luckily for you, we did
not come for all that justice demands, Mother."
"NIVYR, DON'T ANTAGONIZE THEM. WE'RE NOT HERE TO INDULGE OUR BASE EMOTIONS. STAY FOCUSED; DON'T ALLOW THIS REGRESSION TO CLOUD YOUR JUDGMENT."
"Oh,
but you can't see them as I do right now. It's quite telling. They are
awestruck. Why is that, Captain? Have you stranded so many of your
unwanted offspring that you can't decide which we must be? Or was your
abandonment of us so untroubling that you've forgotten the entire
episode?"
Janeway stepped back as if struck, her brows drawing together in horrible realization. "How?"
"You
both," she turned to take the blanching Paris into her view as well,
sparing him none of the blame, "were genetically unstable at the time
our our creation. It seems that we have continued to hyper-evolve since
our birth, and rapidly age, as well. I volunteered to be regressed into
this form" - she indicated her human body - "to expedite our efforts,
so I could more easily communicate with you. Our first attempts at
contact were less than successful." A knowing frown in Chakotay's
direction.
Numb with shock, Janeway's mind fought to follow the fantastical situation before her. "Why do you need our sickbay?"
"For
our sister." The rigid lines of defensive anger on her face softened
slightly. "She is... ill. My brother and I believe her condition can be
traced to an anomaly in one of your anatomical structures. We wish to
use your medical equipment to devolve her, and then treat her. You can
temporarily use the holodeck as your sickbay; we have no use for your
Emergency Medical Holographic program. His knowledge is now ours."
Janeway nodded slowly. "If what you say is true, you are welcome to use our medical facilities."
"CAPTAIN,
I AM TRANSFERRING THE DNA SEQUENCE FOR NIVYR WHICH WE USED TO REGRESS
HER TO THIS PRESENT HUMAN FORM. IT WILL PROVE THAT SHE, LIKE OUR SISTER
AND ME, IS THE CHILD OF YOU AND LIEUTENANT PARIS."
"Very
well." Janeway instinctively knew that the data was merely a formality.
The physical attributes were there for everyone to see: the young
woman's auburn hair, the sharp jawline, the slender strength mirrored
her mother's; and the rebellious curls, the fair skin, and the piercing
blue eyes were her father's without a doubt. But the proof was not
merely physical. Janeway could see the desperation to be taken
seriously in the crossed-arm, planted stance, the harsh determination
that bordered on the unhealthy. Janeway knew it too well. And the
subtler side of Paris was also there, the bitter, wounded vulnerability
shielded by cocky resolve.
"How can we help you?" It seemed like the next logical question.
An
incredulous bark of a laugh. "Help us? None of you can help us. What I
relinquished to the devolution is... near omniscience compared to your
abilities, your understandings."
"NIVYR, THIS IS FRUITLESS. THEY CANNOT HELP WHAT THEY ARE." The words were measured and chillingly dismissive.
"Fine.
Stay out of our way, and we will stay out of yours. We require nothing
outside of sickbay. If we require further information from either of
you, we will ask."
"Very well, then. I'll call off my security officers. You have full access."
She
paused for a moment, deliberating with herself. Strange, unbecoming
emotions played across a face that at any other time would be called
beautiful. "No, there is something else I want. Just a small thing.
We've become beings of light, traveling space and time and learning,
teaching ourselves the ways of peoples you have yet to imagine. We have
seen worlds you cannot imagine. But there is something we cannot
understand. Everything we gathered from your people tells us that what
you did, leaving your newborns without protection or care, was anathema
to your instincts. If this is true, why did you do it?
"When you left your infants on that empty planet, what were you thinking?"
Janeway
stood speechless, her eyes wide and filling with tears she dared not
shed. To her left, by his station, Paris opened his mouth to speak and
then shut it, staring hard at the deck, utterly stricken.
It
was Chakotay who stepped forward and met the woman's eyes, with the
self-condemning fatalism of one who knew he was damned. "They weren't
thinking. They were stunned unconscious by phaser, and then sedated in
sickbay. I ordered Voyager to leave orbit on my authority as first
officer." His words were deliberate and calm, and the guilty cost of
them weighted his broad shoulders, pulling him down, claiming him. "It
is my responsibility alone."
Everyone on the bridge stared in
mute horror and sympathy at the tragic acknowledgment. The facts of the
event were common knowledge among the senior officers, and yet no one
seemed to have thought about them before. Even Nivyr had no response.
"END THIS. GERIA IS WEAKENING. WE MUST BEGIN THE PROCEDURE."
Without
breaking eye contact from the commander, Nivyr whispered huskily, "I'm
ready." She was still studying Chakotay's face as she dematerialized.
"Captain's Log, supplemental. Nivyr remains in sickbay. We are still unable to obtain sensor readings there, due to her brother's intense energy emanations, so we can only assume that their efforts are proceeding as they planned. I have verified the genetic data; she is our daughter. We also have a son and another daughter that we would not even recognize as human.
"I have sent a message asking to talk with Nivyr again. So far I've received no answer. I can't say that I blame her.
"I
know I need to talk to my officers, but I am at a loss. All I can keep
thinking about is my flippant words to Tom after the entire experience
with the threshold of warp speed. 'I've considered having children, but
I must admit I never considered having them with you.' I thought I was
so damned clever, trying to cheer his spirits and reestablish proper
distance between the two of us. I couldn't see the forest for the
trees.
"Now I know how James Kirk felt, when he discovered
that his tidy solution to the Khan Singh incident came back to haunt
him and hurt those he cared about. It was all too easy. I trot out my
formulae, my Prime Directive and Starfleet regulations, and sleep well
at night. And now I am reaping the rewards for my short-sighted
expediency. What is it, Kath? You could only afford moral dilemmas when
they were convenient?
"I am a mother. I've thought about it,
considered it, even dreamed of it at times - well, here it is. I'm a
mother. I have children.
"And I abandoned them.
"God, what have I done?"
When
his shift was over, he waited until the doctor had released Seven and
shut down his own program before entering Sandrine's. Removing the
usual holographic characters, he served himself and curled up at a
corner table to nurse his drink and think. There were no distractions.
The pub was thick with sordid smoke, dark and impure and alone. Just
like Tom Paris felt.
Once he had told the EMH that he was not
ashamed of crying. It was true. That did not mean that he didn't prefer
to do so by himself, without prying, judgmental eyes, however. As he
pondered the amber liquid in his glass, slow, heavy tears trailed down
his face and left hot saltiness on his lips.
He knew how Nivyr
felt. Abandoned, unwanted, rejected. He hated the father who had robbed
him of his confidence, had distorted his sense of worth, and had made
him capable of such self-destruction and self-loathing. He also hated
the father who had given Nivyr such insecurity, such bitterness, and
such counterproductive anger. It amazed and disgusted him, the
knowledge that he was that man.
Kim had crept up to the bar,
nervous and concerned about the lieutenant he knew was hiding in the
familiarity of Sandrine's. As it was, it took several minutes for the
shadow-swathed Paris to emerge from his thoughts and register Kim's
presence.
"Harry, please, not now."
"Should've initiated the safety locks."
"I didn't think anyone would have the bad taste to disturb me."
"I needed to know you were okay."
"I'm okay."
They
both snorted and stared in opposite directions. Finally, Kim turned and
looked at him for a long moment, then broke the silence. "I'll go if
you want me to."
"I want you to... but thanks, Harry."
Kim
nodded, biting back all of the arguments and platitudes and
reassurances he had practiced before coming. "You know where I live, if
you want to talk."
Paris' blurred vision distorted the image of Kim's defeated retreat from the holodeck.
The
old man's eyes were gentle, their corners wrinkled from smiles that
were slow to begin and even slower to leave. White and steely grey hair
contrasted with his deep almond skin, adding to the unearthly glow that
seemed to surround him as he stood in the middle of the darkened
quarters.
"My son, it seems you always summon me when children
are at issue. Just because I was a parent does not mean that my only
insights are those about infants."
The mild humor warmed
Chakotay's heart, and made his next words all the harder. "I know,
father, but right now I seek your wisdom about my actions towards the
children of others. When my captain and a lieutenant were... not
responsible for their actions, they had three children together. When I
found all of them, I made the choice to leave their children behind, on
the world where they were born. Now the children have found us, and
they want to understand why I chose the course of action that I did.
They feel that they were abandoned."
"Well, then, I would tell them." It seemed obvious enough.
"Tell them what?"
"Why did you leave them?"
Chakotay
sighed in frustration, trying to determine the easiest way to explain
things like the threshold of warp speed, Starfleet regulations on
indigenous alien life, and artificially-induced hyper-evolution.
"They... father, they weren't human."
Outrage played on the Kolopak's features. "Did I ever teach you that humans were the only living beings with souls?"
He opened his mouth to reply. But he had no answer.
For
the second time in the day, the horror of his past decision caught
Chakotay full in the throat. He groaned and turned away from his
father's scrutiny.
Janeway paused at the door to his quarters. "Mister Paris, this is the captain. May I come in?"
"Come."
She
looked like the last several pots of coffee had not even managed to
dent her dejection. In less than a day, she somehow came to look like
she hadn't slept in a dozen. Paris, on the other hand, looked like
every sad-storied pub crawler she had ever imagined, unshaven,
disheveled, and more than slightly drunk. So, the rumors concerning
real alcohol on board had some truth to them. An issue for another
time.
She waved him down before he tried to rise.
"Did you hear from Nivyr?"
"Yes, but it seems that they are too busy right now to give us an audience. She has agreed to see us tomorrow."
"Fair enough."
She
took a seat although none had been offered and faced Paris as he
reclined awkwardly on the chaise lounger, apparently where he had
fallen.
"We need to talk."
A laugh escaped him, and an
ugly smile crossed his face. As nonchalant as he intended to appear,
however, he could not force himself to meet her eyes. "Captain, I don't
have enough 'I'm sorries' for this one. If it were possible right now,
I'd resign and you'd never see me again. I didn't mean for this to
happen... but I could say that for a lot of things, couldn't I? You
gave me a chance -"
"This isn't about you, Mister Paris." She
hoped she had pulled off the icy tone, that she had hidden her own
considerable anguish.
"Isn't it?" His voice sounded pathetic,
cracking on the defiant syllables. "I kidnapped you, dragged you across
the threshold, took you to a planet, and forced you to bear my
children!"
"We've been over that, Tom." Long breaths to stay
in control. "You were not at fault. You were not responsible. I, on the
other hand, was accountable for my actions when I signed off on
Chakotay's decision to leave them." She leaned forward, trying to break
through the wall he'd built around himself. "I never even asked you
what you wanted."
He looked above her, over her, avoiding her
scrutiny. "I would've agreed with you. I would've stranded them." The
whisper brought them both to tears. They each tried to recover
silently, alone.
Finally, the familiar deep timbre of command
cut through Janeway's sighs. "What do we do now? It is only appropriate
for us to decide together, Tom. When we see her, what do say? Where
should we go from here? I need your input."
She let the
questions hang between them as he hauled himself upright and, with
unexpected sober grace, sauntered to the porthole. Back to Janeway,
facing the stars, he began to speak. His voice reflected from the glass
to the captain with a flat, tinny sound.
"I always swore that
if I had children, I wouldn't make the mistakes my father made with me.
Trouble is, now I can't figure out what Dad did wrong - never getting
off my back, or leaving me alone. So I don't know whether to try with
this, or stay far away. I don't know... Damn, I never thought I could
become him while I hated him."
He traced the viewport's frame with a finger mindlessly.
"This
brings up many hard questions, I know," she said. He shot a look over
his shoulder at her, defensive, as if to tell her that there was no way
that she could know how he felt. But the expression on her face seemed
to convince him otherwise with a sickening certainty. "I have
considered having children. I am not a young woman, I must make serious
choices soon, and we are far away from home on a ship that might one
day require a multi-generational crew. I've heard the ticking of the
biological clock."
She sighed, looking through him more than
at him. "I've thought I could satisfy my maternal needs with the
challenge of being responsible for an entire crew. But now I confront
the fact that I am a mother, and I have failed to provide for the most
helpless lives under my care. I don't know to feel. I don't know what
this means for me as a captain, as a woman... or a mother." She shook
her head. "All I have is questions."
"I'm sorry, Captain. I have no answers. For either of us."
She
stood and walked to the door. "Maybe it was a bad idea for me to come
here. We're both so caught up in our own pain, we can't see straight.
But we have two daughters and a son on board. We've got to figure out
if we want to learn about them before they have a chance to walk out on
us."
Torres
woke earlier than usual and made her way quickly to the mess hall. As
she expected, Chakotay already sat in the far corner, early enough and
far enough away to avoid interaction with almost everyone. His back
faced the door, and he stared at a datapadd in his hand.
As she drew close enough to see, though, she realized that he was simply staring at the padd, lost in his own thoughts.
"That must be some interesting reading."
"Hmmm." He looked up at her, unseeing, and then away.
"You
must've had a hard night. I dropped by but you didn't answer your door.
I figured you were hunting some big game up there." She pointed to his
head. "Want to talk?"
She slipped in across from him, offering
him little choice. "I don't know what to say," he began in his quiet
way. "When there was a chance I had a son, the captain and the officers
risked everything to help me try to save him. When I was certain that
the captain and Paris had three children, I just left them without so
much as a second thought." He shrugged. "I deserve all of the anger
Nivyr feels. I have no excuse for what I did."
"But no one
ever questioned your decision - Tuvok agreed, and when the captain was
herself again, so did she. You didn't do anything single-handedly.
Besides, there were all kinds of tricky issues to deal with. How would
we care for them? What were they? And what about the Prime Directive?"
"The
Prime Directive deals with life forms we meet, not make. Besides, my
loyalty to the Prime Directive has never been... seamless." He shook
his head. "I know what you're trying to do. Thanks. But I know what
I've done." Shifting the conversation subtly, he asked, "Have you seen
Tom?"
Torres shook her head. She and Chakotay had been family
to one another for too long for secrets to exist between them. "I feel
very strange about it - you can't imagine how hard it is to try to talk
to someone you care for about the children they had with someone
else..."
She could have bitten her tongue when she saw the
tortured look of understanding in his eyes. /Of course you can
imagine,/ she thought. /And when you think you're responsible... Oh,
Chakotay, I'm so sorry./
Janeway
and Paris stepped into sickbay tentatively, as if entering foreign
territory. Nivyr stood ready to meet them. Beyond her, on a biobed,
another humanoid woman was curled in a fetal position, her straight
blond hair fanning out to rest all around her. Surrounding the pale
form was a bright, shimmering light, pulsing rhythmically, as if
patting her.
"You asked to see me? I will not leave this room; if we must talk, we will do it here. What do you want?"
Janeway, steeled for this meeting, refused to be daunted by her daughter's tone. "How is your sister?"
"We
have isolated the cause." Bright blue eyes fixed on Paris accusingly.
"You have a slight enzymatic imbalance in your cerebellum. Unimportant
with your brain structure, but quite problematic in the next stage of
our evolution. Geria inherited this from you. We even regressed her,
like me, to see if we could reverse the effects."
"What can we do? Is there something you can try, test out on me?" He knew he sounded pathetic, but it really didn't matter.
"There
is nothing. She is dying." Her eyes filled with tears and her chin
trembled, but she did not cry. Proudly, she lifted her chin at them
both. "I'll allow you to see her for a moment, if you promise not to
upset her." They both nodded their agreement, and followed the sober
young woman to her sister's side.
In human form, Geria was
much smaller than Nivyr, with a certain slender fragility to her. She
opened blue eyes bright with feverish pain and looked from Nivyr to
Janeway and Paris, and then back to Nivyr again. "You found them?"
The haughty anger melted, and Nivyr bent over Geria with ferocious dedication. "Yes, Geria, these are our parents."
"Hello."
Janeway's whisper was ragged, and her tears began their quiet descent
unhindered now. She reached out and touched one elegant, long-fingered
hand and smiled as the cold fingers closed around her own. Stepping to
the side but still holding her daughter's hand, Janeway made way for
Paris to step forward and touch the soft yellow hair.
"You're very beautiful." He took a deep breath and held it to keep from sobbing aloud.
Her
wide, earnest eyes turned away from them, toward the light. "Oh, not
now, but I was once... like Tyhm... and then I was beautiful." Her
innocent face made it easy to believe that, although rapidly aged
physically, she was still a small child in many ways. "Tyhm?" She
frowned then, as if in pain, and pulled her hand from Janeway's. "It
hurts. Sing to me?"
Janeway stared at her own empty hand and cried.
The same metallic voice that they had heard on the bridge began a strange, synthesized hum throughout the sickbay.
"In my head?"
"NO,
SWEETHEART." The voice sounded infinitely patient and soothing, despite
the distortion. "YOU CANNOT HEAR MY SONGS IN YOUR HEAD - THAT MAKES IT
HURT MORE. BUT I CAN SING TO YOU THROUGH THIS COMMUNICATIONS SYSTEM.
WILL THAT MAKE IT BETTER?"
"Better," she repeated, her
delicate features twisted. As the strange hum again began and then
transformed into a hauntingly morose melody, Nivyr bent over and kissed
the golden head tenderly. Straightening, she turned to herd Janeway and
Paris behind the walls of the soundproofed doctor's terminal. The
captain stood rooted at the girl's side until she felt Paris' tentative
touch on her arm, and only then reluctantly followed Nivyr away from
the sickbed.
"We have lived in each other's thoughts since our
birth. We grew beyond bodies as you understand them almost immediately.
Together we traveled time and space, learning the lessons of thousands
of cultures, evolving all the while. It is... disconcerting to be so
physically and temporally anchored, and to have to speak to
communicate." Nivyr frowned as she watched her sister drift into an
uneasy sleep.
"You three share a special bond," Janeway attempted.
"We were all that we had," came the sharp reply.
The captain wiped her eyes with a shaking hand and tried again. "How did you choose such beautiful names?"
"There
is a planet not too far from the world of our birth in what the Drayans
once called the Belt of Staten, a dense, gaseous body that glows a
beautiful blue-green. We named ourselves for the three moons that
orbited it - Tyhm, Nivyr, and Geria. The names come from Drayan
legend."
"Nivyr, how... how long does Geria have?" Paris could not look away from the delicate figure on the biobed.
"Hours."
He closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively.
"What... what will you do then?" Janeway's voice sounded old and unused.
"If
you'd asked me earlier, I would probably have said that I wanted to see
you pay for making us and leaving us to die. But what a waste. It isn't
worth it. I thought I could hate you, but instead I just feel sorry for
you. You and your rulebound regimen," she looked at Janeway, "you and
your frustrated redemption," she looked to Paris, "and even your first
officer and his schizophrenic conscience. There are so many things you
don't understand."
Tears still staining her cheeks, Janeway
deliberately reached out to touch Nivyr's arm. The young woman looked
at the captain's hand, but did not pull away. "We never intended you
harm."
"Captain, I know that. You didn't think badly of us;
you didn't think of us at all." Her voice was devoid of emotion, even
interest, now. Janeway removed the hand thoughtfully.
"What will you and Tyhm do?" Paris intently watched Geria sleep, as if he might miss something if he looked away.
"There's
one other thing we confirmed while in this facility. The more we age,
the faster we age. Although I appear to be a human of approximately
twenty-five years, I have actually lived more than half of my life.
Tyhm and I are burning ourselves up. We, too, are dying, just not as
rapidly as Geria."
"No," Janeway shook her head. "Not so soon.
There's got to be a way. Perhaps, if you remained in human form, we
could find a way to stabilize your condition and slow the process."
"You
could. But if the tables were turned, you would not give up the
knowledge, the understanding, the wonder that we know, just to have
more life like," she looked down at herself, "this." A strange look of
comprehension crossed her face when she realized that, in essence, that
is exactly what Paris and Janeway had done.
"There has to be another option," Paris croaked desperately.
"No,
Tyhm and I agree that we will leave Voyager as soon as Geria is at
peace. We would rather live full lives than long ones. And we have so
much yet to learn, to discover." Looking each of them in the eyes, her
face took on a shadow of a smile. "I know that both of you understand
the need to explore."
On the biobed, Geria shifted and trembled.
"NIVYR... "
"Please leave us now. We wish to be alone with our sister."
Janeway
and Paris acquiesced regretfully, stealing one last glimpse of their
dying daughter before the sickbay doors hissed shut.
"CAPTAIN JANEWAY?" This time the voice seemed somehow feminine.
"Janeway here. This is Nivyr?" She rose, walked to the screen, and placed one hand on Paris' shoulder, as much for her own stability as his reassurance.
"IT IS. I AM NOW AS I WAS. GERIA IS GONE."
"We are... so sorry." The words were hard to speak. More tears.
"IN YOUR WAY, WE KNOW THAT YOU ARE SINCERE. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SYMPATHY. WE HAVE LOST MUCH.
"I WISH TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU FOR MY EARLIER WORDS OF ANGER. I WAS NOT AWARE OF HOW GREATLY THE REGRESSION WOULD AFFECT ME. YOU AND YOUR KIND ARE AS YET LIMITED BY MANY PATTERNS OF BEHAVIOR AND THOUGHT. YOUR ACTIONS WERE, IN MANY WAYS, PREDICTABLE. YOU FELT LOVING, PARENTAL FEELINGS TOWARD US WHEN WE LOOKED AS YOU DID, AND YET COULD LEAVE US WITHOUT CONCERN WHEN WE SEEMED FOREIGN AND UNKNOWN TO YOU. THIS IS ONE OF THE NATURAL TENDENCIES OF YOUR KIND - ONE, WE HOPE, YOUR CONTINUED JOURNEY WILL HELP YOU TO OVERCOME.
"IF YOU WISH TO DO SOMETHING FOR US, WE ASK THAT YOU THINK OF US, AND OF GERIA. WE WILL KNOW IT WHEN YOU DO SO. AND SO SHALL SHE.
"WE WOULD RETURN YOUR SHIP TO ITS HOME QUADRANT, AS A PARTING SIGN OF GOOD FAITH, BUT WE WOULD NOT TAKE FROM YOU THE OPPORTUNITY TO LEARN FROM SUCH EXPERIENCES AS THIS. THIS QUADRANT HAS MANY THINGS TO TEACH YOUR KIND, LESSONS THAT YOU MUST LEARN IF YOU ARE TO DEVELOP. WE WOULD NOT TAKE THESE FROM YOU.
"WE WISH YOU WELL ON YOUR VOYAGE.
"WE FORGIVE YOU. YOU ARE WHAT YOU ARE. WE ARE WHAT WE ARE. THINK OF US. WE WILL THINK OF YOU."
Janeway turned her red-rimmed eyes to Paris, and then twisted to see Chakotay over her shoulder.
The bridge was quiet.
Chakotay
dipped bare toes into the cool water. The holodeck offered a
surprisingly satisfying experience of a wooded lake, even for someone
as close to nature's true face as the first officer. He found a dry,
mossy ledge and sat, cross-legged, considering the pool.
And the stone in his hand.
The
stone belonged on New Earth. The others spread about him also came from
alien worlds, mementos from Voyager's away missions. He had left no
planet's surface untouched. What unintended consequences followed each
of his explorations? Every time he picked up a stone and tucked it into
his palm, what series of events did he set in motion?
There,
among the others, sat a well-worn stone, no more than a pebble, really.
He had taken it from a shallow streambed on the remote world where the
hyper-evolved Janeway and Paris had been found. It was an afterthought,
taking the stone. Not a planned action. It was just a stone, and he
took it.
And they were just animals - amphibious, expressionless, slippery things - and he left them.
He
rubbed the New Earth stone, tracing its curve with a finger, and
pondered the nature of unexamined actions and their unintended
consequences. Then he stopped.
They had all suffered a death. A death in the Voyager family. There were prayers to be offered and tribute to be paid.
He
was the son of Kolopak. He knew how to mourn, and how to find hope in
the mourning. There was still time before his next duty shift to make
the sweet smoke and say the words and set Geria's memory free.
And, in the most private and personal of ways, to atone.
Chakotay
shivered in the holodeck's simulated afternoon warmth. He rose and
threw the stone at the still waters, and watched the ripples as they
bled along the surface into the holographic horizon.
Kathryn Janeway ordered the lights to dim and uncoiled her hair. Before she had reached the bed, her door chime sounded.
"Come," she acknowledged, hastily rewrapping the robe that hang open at her shoulders.
"Captain,
I... uh... just wanted to be sure that you were okay." Paris had
shaved, and eaten, and slept, although apparently still not very well.
"Thank you, Mister Paris. I'm surviving. And you?"
"Keeping
on, keeping on, I guess. I just... realized that I'd been pretty
self-centered with all that stuff about my dad, and I just -"
"We've
all been self-centered, Mister Paris. That's the way this entire
situation began. But I won't let you hoard all of the blame,
understood?"
He nodded half-heartedly.
"I think we
need to look at this as Nivyr suggested. We can learn from it, and
evolve in our moral understanding of the universe. We can't change what
happened, but we can be damned sure that we don't make the same
mistakes again." Her words were sincere enough, but her tone sounded
artificially resolute, strained, to his ears.
"Now," she continued, "why don't you find B'Elanna or Harry and go to Sandrine's?"
He smiled gratefully, if a little sadly, and walked to the door.
"Oh, and Tom?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"We did have wise, beautiful children, didn't we?" Her eyes were bright, and more than a little desperate in their intensity.
"Yes," he answered, reflecting same awed and humbled regret through the dimness. "That we did." And he left her.
Disrobed,
curling into the covers of her bed, Janeway grew quiet and still, and
thought of her children. Of the fragile angel who had held her hand. Of
the aloof, stoic, mysterious man who seemed so far from human passions
and failings, and yet who comforted his sister with such tenderness. Of
Nivyr, the bold and angry leader of the three, who was now no longer a
beautiful woman, but a light as bright as a star.
She had their understanding. She had their forgiveness.
Janeway
cleared her throat and wiped her eyes. Wrapped her arms around the
twisted sheets. "Computer, on audio 'Tyhm Sickbay 2'."
"'TYHM SICKBAY 2,'" the computer responded.
It
had been simple, really, to make herself a copy of the sickbay's
automatic recordings. It was her only souvenir of the three lives she
had borne.
She drifted to sleep to the precious voice of her son singing a lullaby to his sister.
one
two
three
and if there is a way to find you
I will find you
but will you find me if Neil
makes me a tree an afro a pharaoh
I can't go
you said so
and threads that are golden
don't break easily
"Horses," Tori Amos
THE END
