The Lost Voyages
The "Star Trek – Voyager" that could have been
by Soledad
CARETAKERAlternate pilot episode
Disclaimer: All Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry and Viacom or whoever owns the rights at this moment. I don't make any profit out of this – I wish I would, but I don't, so suing me would be pointless.
Additional disclaimer:
The Deltan names belong to the wonderful Margaret Wonder Bonanno and were borrowed from her TOS-novel "Pawns and Symbols". The characters themselves are mine, though.
Dr. Saduk, the Vulcan microcontamination expert belongs to John Vornholt and was borrowed from his TNG-novel, "Contamination". I had the character married to Dr. Selar in one of my early stories.
Thala, the Andorian adoptive daughter of Dr. Selar belongs to A.C. Crispin and was borrowed from her TNG-novel "The Eye of the Beholder".
The name and race of Kova Tholl was taken from the TNG-episode "Allegiance", but it's not the same character.
Lt. Cmdr. Hranok is the Bolian security officer from the DS9 pilot "Emissary". His name was given in the novelization only.
Kell Perim is the female Trill officer in the TNG movie "Insurrection". I thought she'd be more useful on another ship. :)
Simon Tarses was the main character in the TNG-episode "Drumhead". His family background is canon.
All other unknown characters belong to me. There will be quite a few of those later.
Rating: PG-13, for sexual context, both same-gender and het.
Author's notes: The amount of familiar names in this chapter in no coincidence. They are mostly borrowed from TNG, some from TNG novels. I wanted to give the other ship her own history and a detailed background, and with OCs only they would be of little interest for true Trek fans. Besides, they were interesting characters – a shame that the screenwriters never used them again.
I assumed that the other ship has been abducted to the Delta Quadrant several weeks earlier than Voyager – this would put her crew battling the Krowtonan Guard about the time of the pilot.
The information that Saurians had four hearts is from "The Worlds of the Federation" by Shahne Johnson, a valuable background source.
INTERLUDE #2: SHARED FATES Chief Medical Officer's logStardate: 48212.7
Lt. Selar recording
Despite all efforts from the medical personnel, Lt. Cmdr. Vran't Naa K'T'L, chief engineer of the Equinox, died at 08.11 hours board time. The explosion in engineering, caused by a direct hit of a quantum torpedo, damaged two of his four hearts, and although we tried to grow cloned implants for him, they did not develop fully in time. Not even the extraordinary endurance of his reptilian species provided Lt. Cmdr. Vran't Naa K'T'L with sufficient strength to stay alive until the hearts could be implanted, and with his remaining hearts barely functioning, putting him into a stasis chamber was no solution, either. With his death, the number of casualties has reached thirty-nine since our first encounter with the Krowtonan Guard. He will be missed. Selar out.
The Chief Medical Officer of the Equinox, a tall, slender Vulcan woman with short-cropped, glossy black hair and a slightly upturned nose, switched off the medical log in Sickbay and leaned back in her seat. She was sorely tempted to sigh – a very un-Vulcan-like reaction, but she was considered a heretic anyway. Only the presence of her husband kept her from giving in – Saduk had to put up with enough disapproval from their fellow Vulcans for marrying a woman with utter disrespect for certain parts of tradition and an adopted Andorian child. She would not bring even more dishonour upon him with inappropriate behaviour. It didn't matter that nobody but themselves would ever know. It was a matter of principle.
"So many dead," she said in a soft but collected voice. "And I can't guarantee that there won't be even more. Perhaps Captain Ransom should have considered circumventing their borders, after all."
"It would add another six years to our journey," Saduk reminded her soberly. "For the two of us, it would not be that much of a delay. But for the humans – and for most other species on board – very much so. Even with Warp 8, we need 150 standard years to reach the Alpha Quadrant as it is. That is a human lifetime and a half. You can't blame the captain for not wanting to make it even longer."
"What is better: travelling six years longer, with the whole crew safe and sound, or shortening our journey but sacrificing half of it?" Selar asked, struggling to keep her voice even. The severe loss of lives, caused by the impulsive decision of one human captain, shattered her calm more than she would believe… or admit.
"Captain Ransom had sufficient reason to doubt that the Guard would find us – or that they would cause such damage," Saduk pointed out, though the logic of his argument was somewhat shaky, and he knew that. So did Selar, for that matter.
"Had he?" she replied icily. "The Equinox is a Nova-class science vessel, designed for short-term research. Neither deep space missions, nor battle situations were considered by her design. We have minimal weapons, nothing above basic shields, and we can't even travel faster than Warp 8. In a territory completely unknown for us, Captain Ransom should have counted on the worst: That the inhabitants of this quadrant might have weapons far superior than Federation technology." She shook her head in barely controlled exasperation. "Quantum torpedoes! Even the Enterprise, under such an experienced captain as Jean-Luc Picard, would have a hard time against the Guard!"
Saduk watched the raging emotions of his wife with slight concern through their marriage bond. He knew, of course, that Selar was deeply troubled by the recent events – their abduction to the Delta Quadrant, the encounter with the highly aggressive, unreasonable representatives of the Krowtonan Guard and what she called Captain Ransom's irresponsible behaviour – and feared that his wife would mentally break under the pressure. It was always hard for a Vulcan to accept the loss of life, especially for a Vulcan doctor, dedicated to saving lives and unable to do so. And the chief engineer, whose long and barely pronounceable name everyone on board (except the Vulcans) shortened to "Vranok", had been a personal friend of theirs.
Like all Saurians, the chief engineer had been greatly interested in art, languages and music – interests that Vulcans generally shared. They had often sat together, discussing alien philosophies while listening to music and playing chess or kal-toh, both of which the Saurian had found fascinating.
Determined to bring his wife out of her brooding, Saduk rose.
"I believe thou hast done all thee could, wife mine," he said formally, signalling his intention to exercise his marital prerogatives. "I ask thee to return to our quarters with me. We shall meditate together, to reinstate thy inner balance."
Selar hesitated for a moment – she seldom reacted positively when Saduk adopted an authoritive tone – but she realized that this time her husband was right. Reluctantly, she stood, accepted the comforting two-fingered touch of Saduk, and they left Sickbay in the charge of the only surviving med. tech.
The person in question – a young, round-faced man with thick brown hair and ever-so-slightly pointed ears – waited for the sickbay doors to close before transferring the latest casualty to the morgue. There were so many of them, and a proper burial was not even possible. Not before they left Krowtonan territory far behind them. And even then, the most they could hope was to find some uninhabited planetoid and lay them to rest in foreign soil. They didn't have torpedo caskets to spare for a burial in space.
For his part, Ensign Simon Tarses was no friend of that particular Starfleet custom anyway. Leaving the bodies behind in empty space where anyone could find and desecrate them – it seemed so… barbaric in his eyes. He preferred the traditions the people of his maternal grandfather followed: cremation and the keeping of the ashes in the family shrine. Sometimes he wondered what being a Romulan might be like. If he could actually live and think like the Rihannsu, as they called themselves, should the need arise.
He didn't think so. Living on Romulus – ch'Rihan, he reminded himself – demanded a level of shrewd and ruthless thinking that he did not possess. Nor had his own grandfather, which had been sufficient reason for the old Romulan to go into exile.
He sighed, cleaning the biobed with distracted efficiency. Every time since the drumhead led by Admiral Satie (which had revealed his true ancestry), Tarses had had difficulties blending in with any crew he was serving with. It had been bad enough on the Enterprise, where everyone knew the whole thing in embarrassing detail already – though, to their credit, nobody ever addressed him about the big lie of his life. Still, he had lived in constant shame and asked for a repost as soon as possible – only to end up on the Equinox (after some short-lived assignments on different Starbases), where a good part of the crew had formerly served on the Enterprise, too. Fate – or the elements, as his Romulan grandfather preferred to say – had a twisted sense of humour, that much was sure.
And now he was trapped with these people for the rest of his life. The worst joke of all was that – aside from the Vulcan crewmembers – he was the only one with an actual chance to get home alive, due to his Romulan genes.
Life could hardly be more strange.
The sickbay doors swooshed open to allow three more persons to enter. One of them was the Equinox' first officer, a solidly-built, dark-skinned, usually good-natured human from Cestus III named William Yates, generally called "Bill" by the whole crew. He was followed by Lt. Cmdr. Hranok, the Bolian chief of security – a veteran of Wolf 359, one of the very few survivors who had made it off the Saratoga. Hranok was supporting a young woman in the gold uniform of the engineering crew, whom Tarses recognized as lieutenant j.g. Sonia Gomez. Her arm hung in a strange angle and her face and her hand were bleeding.
"Another console exploded down there," Hranok explained to Tarses' look. "Where is Dr. Selar?"
"In her quarters," Tarses didn't intend to offer any details of what he had accidentally overheard from a private conversation. Vulcans tended to forget that his ears were almost as good as theirs – plus that he spoke Vulcan. "I am fully capable of tending Lt. Gomez' injuries, sir."
Fortunately, Hranok didn't dig any deeper. After having faced a Borgified Captain Picard at Wolf 359, the Bolian probably knew the deep shock that came with the aftermath of battle all too well.
"She's all yours," was all he said, helping Gomez onto the biobed and moving out of the way.
"Status report, Ensign?" Bill Yates asked, while Tarses was scanning the engineer's injuries.
"Lt. Cmdr. Vran't Noa K'T'L is deceased, sir." Like the Vulcans, Tarses was actually able to pronounce the Saurian's name; being fluent in common Vulcan and in a lower Rihan dialect came in handy. "Thirty-nine casualties, so far. No wounded in critical care at the moment."
The XO sat on the edge of an empty biobed, broad shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Half the crew… gods, poor Rudy will never recover from this. How are we supposed to fly the ship with only forty pair of hands?"
"We miscalculated the risks," the Bolian answered with a shrug. "Mistakes like that happen. The consequences are tragic, yes, but we can't sit and whine about that now. Our utmost priority now is to protect the lives that are not lost."
"I hope you have some useful suggestions," Yates said, "because the captain called a meeting for all senior officers at 1100, and he will need them."
"We'll see," replied Hranok, unperturbed; then he nodded to Tarses. "You seem to have everything under control here, Ensign. I'll leave Lt. Gomez in your capable hands. Time for another security check."
"What about internal communications?" Yates asked.
"Still down," Gomez answered in Hranok's stead. "Taurik and Gilmore were working on it when I was injured. It shouldn't be long…"
"So I hope," Yates murmured. "Now that Vranok is dead, who's next in line to become chief engineer?"
"I am the senior officer," Gomez said, making a face as Tarses fused the bones in her forearm, "but Lt. Crusher has better qualifications."
Yates and Hranok looked at each other and groaned almost simultaneously. Of all the arrogant, belligerent, self-absorbed young titans the Academy sometimes produced, they had to get Wesley Crusher, the personal pet of Captain Picard. And, of course, he was among the survivors, while much better people had to die – like Vranok.
"I still want you on that staff meeting, Lieutenant," the first officer said to Gomez. "We need a voice of reason when engineering questions are considered."
"Aye, sir," Gomez said to the retreating back of the XO. She was not looking forward to facing Starfleet's errant golden boy, who admittedly considered his post aboard the Equinox as a serious throwback in his career. Unfortunately for him, it seemed to have become a permanent throwback, as things were.
"Just a minute," Tarses kept her from standing up. "I've got some unusual readings here. Let me take a look at… uh-huh…"
Sonia Gomez felt the well-known panic she always had by unexpected events rising in her stomach again. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Tarses replied, checking his readouts. "Not exactly wrong, that is… perhaps a little bad timing… oh, yes, I was right. Lieutenant, I think congratulations are in order, regardless of the circumstances. You are pregnant."
That was the exact moment when – for the first time in her entire life – Sonia Gomez fainted.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Being a science ship, the Equinox – unlike other vessels of similar size – was equipped with a rather spacious conference room. It had a long, irregularly-shaped table in the middle, with built-in computer terminals that created a holographic image of all required pictures, maps or readouts directly in mid-air, so that they could be watched from all angles. Or they could transfer the same to one of the huge viewscreens lining the walls, whatever the participants of any particular meeting preferred.
Presently, the crowd gathered around the long table was a rather moderate one, as only half of the senior staff had survived the latest clash with the Krowtonan Guard: Bill Yates, Hranok and Dr. Selar. Captain Ransom, a man in his early forties with a leathery, yet handsome face, sat slumped in his chair, his eyes practically dead. There was no need for a telepath to confirm that the loss of his crew had broken something deep in him, so deep that no healing would ever be able to reach that bleeding place.
His second officer, Lt. Maxwell Burke, sat on his left. Well, the Equinox didn't officially have a second officer, but Burke was the only one other than Yates who actually had gone to command school (even though only post-graduate), and after finding themselves in the Delta Quadrant, Captain Ransom had given the ambitious young operations officer a field promotion. Just in case one – or both – of the commanding officers should die. The structure of command had to be kept intact.
The surviving leaders of the different science labs had all been invited. Saduk had come from Microcontamination, Jayvin Hajan, a joined Trill from Stellar Cartography, Jali'lar Kandowali, a beautiful, bald Deltan woman from Quantum Mechanics (where she worked with two other Deltans, the male members of her marriage group, and a Betazoid woman who alone could deal with their raging pheromones and sensuality), and a small man, distinguished by a strangely grey, wrinkled complexion: Kova Tholl, a geologist from Mizar II.
Engineering was represented – besides a visibly shaken Sonia Gomez – by a lanky young junior-lieutenant, who wore a permanently insulted expression on his pasty face, making it even less pleasant than it already was: Wesley Crusher, once acting ensign and helm officer of the Enterprise and biggest promise of Starfleet, now fallen from grace through youthful arrogance and irresponsible behaviour. The ops and helm officers Dorothy Chang and Edward Regis – usually from Gamma shift, but now promoted by need since they were the ones with the most duty years under their belts – completed the gathering.
"Thank you for coming on such a short notice," Ransom began in a tired voice. "We need to regroup and make new plans after the heavy casualties we have taken. I'm open for suggestions, people."
The casual tone didn't surprise anyone. Captain Ransom had always run the ship like a science institute, and though Starfleet regulations were respected, nobody cared much for formalities. Aside of the Vulcans, of course, but that was a different matter. Stiffness was part of the Vulcan nature.
"The casualties," Kova Tholl began in that lecturing tone he always used – and that made him extremely unpopular on the whole ship – "would have been less severe, or prevented entirely, had we heeded the warnings and circumvented the borders of the Krowtonan Guard as I have suggested."
"Not everyone shares the cowardice of the Mizarans, Dr. Toll," Max Burke spat, in defence of his captain and friend.
"What Dr. Toll says has its merits," Selar interfered calmly. "I chose not to take part in that argument because due to the Vulcan longevity six more years would not mean the same for me as they mean to other crewmembers. But I happen to agree with Dr. Toll as well as with the Mizaran philosophy that values peace over confrontation."
"Which got them conquered six times in a period of three hundred years," Burke commented acidly.
"True," the Mizaran nodded, "and we also survived every time by offering no resistance, while all our erstwhile conquerors have perished or fallen back to pre-industrial barbarism and poverty."
"That might work on the long run," the Trill said, "but we need to find a way home in our lifetime, if possible. I still support the captain's original decision, even though we all miscalculated the risks. We must look forward now. How long till we leave Krowtonan territory?"
"Theoretically, we should have left it behind already," Dorrie Chang answered. "But the damage in Engineering has slowed us down. Our current top speed is Warp 6.729. That gives us at least one more day in the Krowtonan Girdle."
She was referring to the part of space they were currently crossing – a particularly narrow part of marked territory near the midsection of the Krowtonan Empire. The other side of it, where they were heading, was empty space without as much as a single star, as far as their sensors could see – which was not very far at the moment. Based on that fact, they could reasonably hope that the Guard wouldn't pursue them into dead space.
How they would be able to cross it was another matter entirely, of course.
"We have no other choice than to go on," Hranok said. "Turning back is not an option anymore, and we can't slow down to make repairs, either."
"Agreed," Yates nodded. "Captain, as soon as we have replaced the department heads, we'll have to start working on a tactical plan. We need to create better means to defend ourselves. The Krowtonan Guard may not be the only hostile species in this quadrant."
Ransom looked at him with those dead eyes tiredly. "I am just a scientist, Bill. I'm not trained for that."
"Nor is it your job, sir," Yates replied. "Commander Hranok used to be the tactical officer of the Saratoga, he's used to that way of thinking. And I know one or two tricks myself."
"You?" the Trill looked at him in surprise. Yates grinned like a shark.
"My father was a freighter captain, and I practically grew up on his ship. Since I went to the academy, my sister has taken over for him. She operates in the Bajoran system and the DMZ. I did a few runs with her, too. You'll be surprised what an innovative mind can do with the most basic tools and materials. But sir," he turned to Ransom again. "Before we start, we need to complete the senior staff. The crew needs structure, now more than ever."
Ransom nodded, with the barest of interest in his haunted eyes. "Suggestions?"
Yates, having thought it through already, pulled out a PADD. "Aye, Captain. First, I suggest to make the promotion of Ensign Chang as chief of ops and Ensign Regis as chief helmsman permanent. For the Beta shift I suggest Ensign T'Shanik for ops and Ensign Xing for the helm. For the gamma shift we should try crewmen Crone and Thompson. They both have some experience, and given enough time they would make excellent officers. Both Lieutenant Burke and myself can help out if necessary, but I feel that it's important we have a steady bridge crew for all three shifts."
Ransom looked at Burke. "What do you think, Max?"
"I agree," the second officer replied, "with the addition that we should select other people to make them familiar with the bridge systems… just in case."
The last comment lingered heavily in the air. Then Lt. Crusher shifted in his seat.
"I am an experienced pilot," he pointed out, clearly insulted that nobody else had thought of that. "I can take over the helm," he added, in an ill-disguised effort to hide his desire to become a senior officer. But Burke dismissed his offer with an impatient wave of his hand.
"You've flown a big, honking Galaxy-class starship in top shape, Lieutenant. This is a little different. Besides, we need you in Engineering. Anything else would be a waste of your talents. You're said to be an engineering genius – now is your chance to prove it."
"Lieutenant Gomez is the senior officer in Engineering, Max," Yates reminded him, surprised that Burke would favour Crusher so openly; the two weren't exactly the best friends, to put it mildly. Burke rolled those liquid dark eyes of his that had earned him the title of the ship's resident Don Juan.
"Bill, we are 70,000 light years from petty regulations. I know that Sonia is next in line, and under normal circumstances I'd be the first to support her promotion. But Lt. Crusher has better qualifications… and, according the records, an extraordinary talent for engineering. We'll need that talent out here."
"I realize that," Yates replied. "But I also think that Lt. Crusher can just as well use his talent to our benefit without being burdened with the responsibility for the whole engineering department – if not better."
Before Burke could launch another argument, Gomez raised a hand. "Sirs, may I have a word in this matter?"
Ransom nodded. "By all means, Lieutenant. Speak your mind."
"Thank you, captain. Sirs, I think I can solve your dilemma easily. It's better if you make Lt. Crusher chief engineer, as I couldn't keep that post very long anyway."
"Why not?" Yates asked with a frown. Gomez smiled.
"Ensign Tarses' examination has just shown that I'm pregnant. I'd have to hand over Engineering in about six months anyway, as I won't be able to crawl around in the Jefferies tubes by then. And if you give Lt. Crusher a field promotion to full lieutenant, the rank problem would be solved, too."
"Yes, it would," Yates agreed reluctantly. He really, honestly didn't want to make Crusher a senior officer, but it seemed that he had no way out of it. "What do you think, Captain? In the end, it's up to you."
"We don't have much of a choice, do we?" Ransom said with a shrug, hoping that Crusher would turn out as talented as Burke had said; then he turned to Gomez, this time with a little more life in his eyes. "Your first, Lieutenant?"
Gomez shook her head, smiling. "I already have a pair of four-year-olds back home. My… partner has a planetary assignment for the next five years, so he offered to care for them during this mission." Her smile faded. "I guess he's in for a lifetime job."
"We'll have to do something about the children," Selar intervened smoothly before the mood could get any more depressed. "From the seven children we had aboard, only two have survived. Thala and Ensign Baila's daughter, Yboia. They will need a proper education; so will the others who shall be born during our journey. There are highly qualified people on this ship – making up a curriculum should not be too hard."
"You sound like someone who plans to have a 150-year-trek home," Burke said challengingly. Selar nodded.
"I do. And so should you, Lieutenant. Because that is exactly what we all are going to have, unless we find a wormhole or some other extraordinary means to shorten our journey."
"It still can happen, you know," Hranok said. "Ben Sisko didn't expect to find the Bajoran wormhole, either. Yet he did."
"True," Selar admitted, "but as a Vulcan, I prefer to work with facts. I leave the hope for a miracle to the humans."
That killed the discussion efficiently, and after coming to an agreement about replacing some other department heads, Ransom dismissed the meeting. The officers filed out slowly, leaving their captain alone with his second officer.
Burke stepped behind the captain's chair and began kneading the knotted neck and shoulder muscles gently but firmly.
"Let go, Rudy," he murmured. "You can't stand at alert all the time. Relax, before you break. You're not alone. We've lost half our people, yes, and it's terrible, but at least we still have each other. I guess we've been lucky, after all… even if it makes me feel guilty for those who have not."
"Max, we've agreed that this was… inappropriate, as long as you serve under my command," Ransom reminded him, but he leaned his head back against the younger man's stomach involuntarily, his eyes closed.
"That was back in the Alpha Quadrant – 150 years away from here," Burke pointed out reasonably. "What do fraternization rules count out here? You know as well as I do that Selar's right: we'll most likely spend our whole life on the way home, unless some miracle happens. Are you willing to give up what we had – what we still could have – for the vague hope in that miracle? There will be no extended leaves between temporary missions for us to catch up with our life together. This is one big, goddamn mission of a lifetime. And I'm not going to spend that lifetime alone when I can share it with you."
"But the crew," Ransom protested weakly, yearning for the comforting touch of his friend… his lover. "They'll find out…"
"What if they do?" Burke shrugged. "Assuming they haven't found out already, they'll understand. They all like you, Rudy, and they'll be happy for you. Happy to know that you're not alone with your burden. And after some time, they'll start pairing up, too. What else could they do? Not everybody was so lucky as Selar and Saduk – or the Deltans. Life will go on, eventually. The question is: do you still want me in your life?"
Ransom rose from his seat tiredly, but now his eyes were warm. He pulled the younger man closer and pressed a long, lingering kiss on those soft lips.
"I never wanted anything else, Max," he replied, his voice nearly breaking.
Burke nodded, the ghost of a smile appearing on his pale face. "Then you'll have me, as long as this accursed quadrant allows. Let's go."
"Where?"
"My quarters are a mess. The ceiling collapsed during the latest clash with the Guard. That leaves yours."
"Max, we can't. I'm needed on the bridge."
"No, you're not. It's Bill's shift, and he's more than capable of handling whatever the Delta might throw at us. Let him do his job. You need rest."
"Somehow I don't think that rest is what you have on your mind," Ransom murmured, but he followed Burke to the turbolift nevertheless.
"In a way it is," Burke answered soberly. "I'll make you forget – for a while."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hours later, in the comforting darkness of his quarters, Rudy Ransom admitted to himself that Max had been right. After all those weeks of forced celibacy, it was utterly relaxing to rest in the warm embrace of his lover again, even though they both were sore from their rather passionate recent activities. Feeling the warm body of Max spooned up against his back felt like home, even here in this damned Delta Quadrant. As long as he had this, he could keep going.
"It was about time that they came to their senses," the Deltan woman commented, two doors further down the corridor. Her partners – one as bald as herself, the other, from a different subspecies, wearing a great, lion-like white mane – laughed softly.
"Humans are so complicated," Resh'da said with a shrug. "You should have activated your pheromones a lot earlier, sister-love." Aside from being married, they also were second-grade cousins. Deltans had no taboos in this area – or any other area, when sex was considered.
"They were ready before," Jali'lar shrugged. "Too many regulations… too many concerns. But they are ready now – and their love will help the captain to carry his burden. Nobody should be alone. Especially not out here.
TBC
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
End note: Further – and earlier – adventures of the Equinox will be told in a series called "The Equinox Logs". The Romulan expressions were created in Diane Duane's TOS-novels. I use them in all my stories because they are much better, more coherent and convincing than anything the screenwriters ever came up with.