ECHOES

CHAPTER 4

"I wasn't going to tell them I know you're Nick Locarno," Tom said to Nick at the conn.

"And I wasn't certain whether you were really me," Nick replied. "You could also have left your Tom Paris back in Federation space."

"I know. Captain Janeway was good enough to pluck my sorry behind from the New Zealand Penal Colony."

"Well, what do you know. That's where I was rotting before my captain made me an offer I didn't want to refuse."

Tom chuckled. Kathryn Janeway had done pretty much the same with him.

"So… what we need here is to enhance the navigational array to create a gravimetric force strong enough to suck Voyager off the rocks like a periwinkle. You're going to have only seconds to break away from the fracture," Tom said, beginning to enter a few key commands on the conn panel.

"Like a periwinkle. I get it. We'll need to re-route power from the engines.

"Correct. On our ship we had good forewarning and were prepared. Our chief engineer - "

"B'Elanna Torres?"

"Aye. Happens to be my wife. We're eight months pregnant - "

Nick whistled softly through his teeth. "Our B'Elanna is single. No Tom for her, I'm afraid."

"Well," Tom continued, "what we know is that another breach will occur. When it will happen only Seven of Nine can tell. She warned us of the first one. She'll let us know."

"Since we have at least a few hours to kill, how about a game of pool?" Nick suggested with a smile.

"We do need to inform Engineering about rerouting power to the navigation systems."

"Don't worry. We'll visit her after we've been to the holodeck. Something I want to show you. We do have at least two hours, right?"

"Right."

Tom ignored the curious stares of the bridge crew as he and Nick headed for the turbolifts. He gave them a he's-Nick-and-I'm-Tom-look as they crossed the floor. Meanwhile, Hamilton, who'd been sitting to the left of Nick, took over the conn.

"So," Nick began once they were inside the turbolift, "next thing they're gonna think we're related."

"Well, aren't we?"

"My mother is a medical practitioner too. She lives on Bajor. 'Nuff said."

"Lovely picture of my father in the briefing room. Quite the hero. What's he done?"

"Enough. In my universe he acknowledges me as his son, Tom."

"That makes him a hero?"

"That makes him a hero."

Tom looked at Nick with narrowed eyes. They had a few hours to kill. An idea sprang into his head.

"Say, when you return to the Alpha Quadrant, will you give Owen Paris and Thomas Eugene Paris a message from an alternate timeline Tom Paris?"

"You're sure you want to do that?" Nick asked.

Tom nodded, then said, "I can give our Nick a message from you…"

"I'd like that."

"In my universe my father has forgiven me finally. I gave him a hard time." When Tom saw Nick frown, he added, "We are able to communicate with Starfleet. Dad heads the Pathfinder Project."

"No such luck on my side, though I'm sure they tried. A pathfinder project, you say? Perhaps our Admiral Chakotay is part of a similar project."

"Nick, for what it's worth, we know our captains. I'm pretty darned certain we'll be home inside a year."

"I hope so, too."

After Mike Ayala had spoken with Tuvok, he made his way to Engineering. He'd endured the inquisitive stares of crew who passed him in the corridors and simply nodded in greeting or shrugged it off. Since they'd been transported to this ship, he had wanted to know about his counterpart.

Nicole Janeway's words were mystifying, confusing him more than he'd dared to admit. There was just something about the way she'd advised him to see B'Elanna Torres that piqued his interest a thousand-fold.

Almost the first person he saw as he entered Engineering was a half-Klingon, half-human officer. Perhaps because she looked so petite, her uniform clinging seductively to her body, that he had trouble recognising her. Their own B'Elanna was married to Tom Paris and she was heavily pregnant with a blooming face, her daughter expected to be born in a month's time. This woman was clearly not pregnant.

She was working on an EPS relay and looked up distractedly when he approached her. Suddenly she swore in Klingon. Ayala smiled.

"Some things never change, Torres," he said.

"Hey! Who - ?" Torres rose to her short height and paled when she saw him. She swallowed, struggling to get a word out until finally she managed, "Ayala…?"

"Yes. Michael Ayala."

"Ayala?" she whispered his name again.

He saw how she struggled to regain her composure.

"Your captain suggested I speak with you about my counterpart. I believe he is no longer on this vessel, Ms Torres," he said softly, suddenly very formal with her. Her distress was very clear. "I am sorry to upset you. If you'd rather not… Perhaps the captain will allow me to read the ship's logs pertaining to his demise?"

Torres continued to gape at him, swallowing with difficulty, but the moment she was composed, he thought he was back on his own ship.

"Vorik!"

B'Elanna yelled suddenly without looking in the direction of the Vulcan ensign. When he approached her, she barked, "Here, take this and continue monitoring the plasma relays. We're rerouting power to the navigational systems."

"Aye, Commander Torres."

Torres turned to Ayala, grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her small office. Once inside, she closed the door. No one would hear them, he knew.

"Now, Mike. What do you want to know?"

The almost angry pain was back in her eyes.

"As much as you want to tell me."

"Ayala and I…we were together."

He wasn't surprised. They had always had a deep friendship, from the moment they'd joined the Maquis… They must have been a great couple.

"What happened to him?" he asked, dreading the answer nonetheless.

"Okay, you know the Kazon were about to take over the Ocampan world?"

Ayala nodded. Seven years later, Torres still sounded as angry as Chakotay had been on the Liberty.

"Michael…" She paused, reached to touch his arm, sliding her hand down to cover his. For a few seconds she caressed the back of it. "He was my friend, in the best sense of the word. His wife had run off with a Cardassian, of all p'taqs, leaving him to care for his small boys."

"How did he die, B'Elanna Torres?"

"A hero, you understand? A hero who didn't take into account he was leaving two sons without a father. He…" Torres sighed deeply. "He rammed the Liberty into the Kazon vessel, just seconds after he had me transported to Voyager. What remained of the Liberty's crew had already been beamed to Voyager hours before that. I was the one who wanted to die…"

"You?"

"Instead of him! Nicole Janeway was after me! In the Badlands, I'd given Voyager a run for its money. Voyager and Gul Evek. I was getting out of Janeway's face. They would have had me rot in a Cardassian prison."

"Did Mike think you'd be of greater value to Voyager than him?"

Torres was quiet a few seconds, her eyes blazing with remembered anger and pain.

"I figured it would be the last good deed I'd do as a Maquis renegade. And then I'd die for the good of Voyager. Mike pulled me to him just as the transporter beam caught him. Before I could react I was already on Voyager's bridge, swearing blue murder right in Janeway's face."

"Our Commander Chakotay did that for us, though Voyager's best transporter experts got him out in the nick of time."

"Michael didn't have to do what he did, okay?"

"But Voyager needed to destroy the Kazon vessel, Torres."

Another sigh. "Yes. Michael… Because his wife dumped him, he'd brought his kids on the Liberty. We were going to settle them with family deep in the heart of the Badlands - a planet called Alkorea - "

"The boys are here? On board Voyager?" Ayala asked, completely thrown by B'Elanna's words.

"Yeah. No mother. No father. Just a shipload of aunts and uncles who adore them."

"I haven't seen my sons in eight years. My wife took our kids to her mother. Then she…died."

He'd had only three communications from his mother-in-law who'd told him that the boys were doing well, just missing their father. Ayala felt a great pain in his chest just thinking of his boys. Here was his chance…

"H-how old are they?" he asked.

"Diego is twelve and Peter is ten years old."

"Are you their primary caregiver, B'Elanna Torres?"

Torres smiled. He had sat down on a chair in the narrow confines of her office and leaned forward to touch her hand. This B'Elanna, with no Tom Paris on board, had been more than just great friends with his counterpart. She looked sad and angry during her recount of the events that led to his death. Now her eyes were filled with pride.

"Yes…yes, I am. They call me Mama…"

"I would very much like to see them, B'Elanna. You can set it up. I don't have to meet them. I realise how my presence could be disconcerting for them. Please, I haven't seen my sons. It would give me…peace, I guess."

He realised only now that the great emptiness he had felt since they'd been thrust in the Delta Quadrant was because his sons were not in his life, that the feeling of slight nausea he'd experienced since he'd woken up this morning was a result of an echoing emptiness inside him, an emptiness he sensed would leave once he'd seen B'Elanna's boys.

"I will arrange that, Michael Ayala. I'd very much like to do that for the best friend I ever had…"

Seven of Nine remained impassive as she made her way to the Astrometrics lab. Crew had turned their heads to look at her and had stopped and gaped. They had a Seven of Nine on board; she saw no reason for their obvious curiosity. She remained expressionless as she reached her destination and calmly entered the codes to the lab.

The doors remained closed. For once she pondered on the fact that she might have made a mistake. "Of course," she realised. "This vessel's Seven of Nine devised her own unique codes. But why keep Astrometics locked?" she murmured as she pressed the chime.

Seconds later the doors swished open and she strode in. There were three officers, two of whom Seven instantly recognised as the Delaney twins, Megan and Jenny. The third person standing at the main console that controlled the massive viewscreen showing several sectors seemed a stranger to her. Dressed like the other two in the teal Starfleet uniform, she remained gazing at the viewscreen while fingers flew deftly over the panels.

Seven took two steps forward, wondering what had happened to this vessel's former Borg. She had been told Seven of Nine was here in Astrometrics. Megan Delaney frowned heavily when she saw Seven of Nine, her eyes scanning the silver close-fitting cat suit she was wearing.

"Your Seven of Nine. I do not see her here…" Seven said without greeting the stunned Megan.

"She is here…there…" Megan pointed to the figure hunched over the console.

"That is not - " Seven started, but stopped instantly when the woman looked directly at her.

Same eyes, same mouth, same heaving bosom. Same hair, but caught in a ponytail such as she'd seen Captain Kathryn Janeway wear in pictures of the earlier years of their journey.

"Seven of Nine, why are you dressed like that?"

The officer rose to her impressive height. Seven noticed how much softer her features appeared, how human she looked.

"Are you here to do a job of work and help me sort out this freakin' mess we're in? I take no comfort in being stranded in your universe. And, my name is Annika Hansen."

Only now Seven noticed the absence of an exoskeletal frame on the hand of the other woman. The remains of her ocular implant were faint, hardly noticeable.

"You cannot survive without your vital implants, Seven of Nine."

Annika Hansen came up closer to her and tried to stare her down. As impressive as she appeared in her Starfleet uniform, to Seven of Nine it signalled a general acceptance of her humanity.

"And I said, call me Annika Hansen. That is the name I go by since B'Elanna Torres severed me from the Collective and the EMH removed most of my implants, including those tied to my vital functions. As you can see, I didn't die."

"You have become as obnoxious as some humans I know."

"Trust me, it's what I chose to be - an integral part of the function of this ship and its crew, my family."

"Seven - "

"Annika."

"I prefer to remain Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01. It's effective and places me where I need to be."

"And where the devil is that, pray?"

"An integral part of the function of my ship and its crew, my family."

"Touché."

"I value Captain Kathryn Janeway very highly. From her I have learned that individuality is important and vital within the construct of the group. If truth be told, I believe on Voyager we have perfected the ability to act like a hive mind while at the same time no one loses what is most precious to him or her - identity."

"Oh. You think I have not learnt that from my captain? I made a conscious choice when I became integrated into the life of this ship as fully human with all its quirks and peculiarities. I believe I am what I would have developed into had I not been assimilated. I prefer it that way. This uniform helps me to blend into humanity."

"And therefore bound to Federation laws and ideals."

"Yes."

"They are flawed."

"You may think what you will. Captain Nicole Janeway grieves like most on this ship who have left loved ones behind. That makes her human."

And Seven of Nine, not to be outdone by her counterpart who spoke and acted like a Starfleet officer, found the chink she needed to best Annika Hansen.

"And from Commander Chakotay I have learned that it is acceptable to be Annika Hansen. He taught me that my assimilation was a part of my destiny, one that has shaped me into what I prefer to be: Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01. I still believe that any task must be completed to the highest order of things: perfection. It is why our Voyager could successfully break the bond of the space-time matrix."

"Then we're at odds here."

"Shall we continue with my mission?"

"If you're here to criticise my methods, you might as well leave."

"No, I am not here to criticise your methods, Annika Hansen. Merely to perfect them."

"I consider that an insult."

"Please, can we do what we're supposed to do? We do not have much time," Seven of Nine said curtly as the other woman also stared at the silver cat suit. Seven's free hand touched her ocular implant briefly, and almost instantly it felt to her as if her nanoprobes surged with renewed energy through her body. She gave a little sigh of relief.

"What is that object in your hand?" Annika Hansen asked, some of her Borg efficiency returning.

"It belongs to Captain Kathryn Janeway. Five years ago she slipped through a temporal inversion fold in the space-time matrix similar to the one you've slipped through. It is a temporal tracer that will help us determine the exact time and place of the next fracture in the space-time matrix."

"Can the possibility exist that it is the same one?" Annika asked.

"I was not on Voyager at the time the original fracture occurred. Until I can make an analysis of the alignment of this disc to every centimetre of the sector, I would not hazard a guess."

"Well, let us start, Seven of Nine. It still feels weird to call my counterpart by her Borg designation. I haven't used it for years."

"You should," Seven of Nine said with an imperious air. "I believe one cannot exist or function fully without…the sum of all your parts. I treasure my…inner Borg. It defines who I am."

"You're inferring that I'm not Borg anymore?"

"You have wilfully discarded the very aspect of your nature that would have complemented you. The wholeness of you with all its warts is what defines your character, for better or for worse."

"You know what we looked like when we were transported to Voyager the very first time. Unlike other bipedal Delta Quadrant species, the Borg was viewed with extreme distrust. In that form, Seven of Nine, crew of this vessel displayed extreme fear of me. I wanted change. I like what and who I am now. I received a field commission of Lieutenant from Captain Nicole Janeway. Let's just say that here, on this vessel, I can be one of the gang, not a curiosity."

"Surely your vessel has encountered the Borg since your…integration?" Seven of Nine asked while she was busy at the console. "There must still be a part of you that is…Borg."

Seven fixed the temporal disc to a housing on the console and pressed a tiny key on the edge of the instrument. Immediately a slight whirring began and data began to stream across the monitor. From time to time she looked up and studied the main viewscreen while Annika kept archiving the datastream.

"I still have my neural transceiver," Annika replied. "It has activated the few times we have encountered the Borg. My assistance was needed then. However, it was considered part of a combined ensemble action by every able-bodied member of this ship. I prefer not to blow too many bugles around here."

"Have you never felt yourself to be unique? That being Borg formed part of your distinctiveness?"

"What? You condone the assimilation of millions who lost their identity? Who lost their lives? Millions separated from loved ones? We were once murderers, Seven of Nine. Cold-blooded killers who assimilated with merciless intent. Borg distinctiveness? Let's see what that entails: no remorse, no feeling, no hatred, no love, no empathy, no sympathy, no caring, no relevance. I wanted that purged."

"So you prefer the comfort of not remembering. That makes everything convenient."

"Seven of Nine, my request to the EMH was very clear - I wished for every memory of hearing a thousand voices as constant echoes in my mind to be purged. I wanted everything - every emotion, every incident however unimportant to others, to be relevant to me."

Seven of Nine kept her eye on the monitor this time. Annika's words unsettled her momentarily. How many times had she herself rejected things others considered relevant? There were times on board her Voyager when she sensed others viewed her with suspicion, even awe. She had little recourse on how to correct it, other than purging herself of everything Annika Hansen had discarded from her life. Yet…

"Annika, let me tell you why I prefer my Borg distinctiveness. I need the memories of what I once was. They echo inside me as reminders to keep me grounded, to keep me human, to view any other injustice against the framework of the terrible atrocities of the Borg and surely feel the horror, the disgrace, the remorse a hundred-fold more than if I had never been a part of such acts. I need being part Borg because that is what keeps me grounded. For better or for worse."

"We really are not at all alike, Seven of Nine."

"I rejoice in our difference."

Annika shrugged, then continued to work alongside Seven in complete accord, as if they were one mind working at finding a solution. From time to time one of them would say something to which the other would nod in agreement. The Delaney sisters spent the rest of the session watching in awed silence as two versions of a former Borg operated like a hive mind.

Jenny Delaney, dressed like her identical twin in the same teal uniform as Annika Hansen, wondered for a moment what their counterparts were like on the other Voyager ship. She had a vision of four of them standing in a row, or the two of them exchanging places with their mirror twins and no one the wiser. Yet, she concluded, if their Annika Hansen, a former Borg and once Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01 could be so different from her counterpart who appeared stunning in a silver cat suit, could their mirror halves also be so different?

The temporal disc vibrated gently as soon as new data was entered and the next key pressed. At times Seven of Nine gazed at the viewscreen, her eyes scouring every grid in the selected sectors. At one moment Annika had clicked her tongue in impatient annoyance, muttering something about hitting a wall. Then Seven calmly pulled her back and insisted they work methodically until they'd charted every square metre.

At last the disc vibration halted and a dark green fluorescence began slowly swelling from the inside.

"We have something," stated Seven of Nine.

Annika Hansen exclaimed as she pointed at the viewscreen, "There! A slight uneven line!"

Both of them began to enter data with furious efficiency while the disc glowed luminous green.

Finally, Seven of Nine stood erect and looked at Annika Hansen. A glimmer of a smile touched her lips as she said, "We must inform the Captains Janeway of our findings."

Chakotay greeted everyone who passed him in the corridors very cordially. It felt as if he knew them as intimately as he knew his own crew. They nodded in deference. Many of them didn't know Nicole Janeway's husband at all. He hoped that his demeanour gave them an insight to the kind of man her husband was.

He thought to head first to the mess hall to meet Neelix. Kathryn had wanted their own Neelix to be on standby to share whatever innovations this ship's cook had by way of edible plants.

He felt the old echoes beginning to dissipate. It had started with meeting Nicole Janeway earlier. Face to face, it was hard to distinguish between the two women, but he knew Kathryn, could smell her; her voice patterns were implanted in his brain. No, he thought, he would not mistake the two. Like a mother who sensed the difference between her identical twins, he sensed the difference between Kathryn and Nicole as clearly as if they had different features.

Nicole Janeway was sad, distressed. He had wanted to touch her hand, but even as the thought crossed his mind, the turbulence he'd felt inside him had slowly disappeared. Strange, thinking about it now. Perhaps it was something in the cosmic order of things, a divine providence that had created this convergence of two Voyagers. They had to meet, of that he was now convinced, even if that thought was the furthest thing from his mind last night when he and Kathryn had discussed her sojourn in the alternate universe.

One moment he had felt ill, just as many on Voyager must have felt the same sense of displacement. Then, as soon as he set foot on this vessel, he felt better. Not completely in sync with himself, but much better.

Right now Kathryn was probably telling Nicole of her time in their universe, when she'd met Admiral Chakotay and Thomas Eugene Paris. She called them heroes because they'd risked everything to send her back to her own time and place. Chakotay gave a little chuckle. It was possible Nicole viewed Kathryn's account with disbelief, even extreme distrust, thinking Kathryn was enjoying teasing her. Kathryn would soon put Nicole's mind at ease and continue her story, Nicole listening with rapt attention.

They had a precious few hours to connect with their doubles. So he enjoyed the walk through this Voyager.

"Hi," a friendly young voice rang up.

"Naomi Wildman."

"Yes, Commander Chakotay. Captain Janeway - our Captain Janeway - has briefed us on your arrival on our vessel."

"Well, it is good to see you, Naomi Wildman."

"Do I have a double on your ship? Was she also brought from another Voyager like I was because I died on the duplicated vessel?"

Chakotay shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "Yes, indeed she was. Our Harry Kim also came from the duplicated vessel."

"Ours too! That's neat."

"That's weird."

"Weird is part of a Captain assistant's job."

"So you're the Captain's assistant here, too."

"Aye, Commander. And Commander, I hope our captain won't feel so lonesome anymore now that she's met you."

"Young lady, I can assure you she feels much better."

"Thank you, Commander Chakotay. I have to go. See you."

"Keep well," he said, but Naomi had already rounded a corner.

He was still smiling when he entered the mess hall. Although it was already later in the afternoon, the mess hall seemed deserted. Even Neelix was nowhere to be seen. He was probably in the hydroponics bay, Chakotay thought.

Something else hit him in that moment as he contemplated the mess hall's deserted air. The turbulent feeling in his stomach was back and he felt an overpowering dizziness. He stood erect, as still as he could to allow the feeling to pass. It settled slowly, though not leaving him.

He scanned the area. It seemed strange to not to see a single crewmember in the entire dining area. Not unless one counted the corner occupant, too small to be one of the crew. Right at the same table he and Kathryn always enjoyed their lunch together.

A child.

He had time enough to study her for her eyes were fixed on placing a rod in the kal-toh game Tuvok always played. She appeared familiar to him, though he swore he had never seen her before.

He couldn't have seen her before. Ever.

Her dark eyes were sad, he thought. And though the game was one of extreme concentration, she looked introverted, a too quiet child who had very few friends. He thought of the friendly Naomi Wildman he'd met minutes earlier.

Chakotay moved closer to the child. When she looked up, distracted, he felt as if a giant fist had just squeezed his heart. For a moment he couldn't breathe. Her hair was a burnished dark shade, cut in even bangs across her forehead, ending in an engaging bob.

He knew with a sickening truth that if he and Kathryn ever had a little girl, she would look exactly like the child looking at him with her heart in her eyes.

"Hello," he ventured.

"Papa?"

END CH 4

TBC