THE LOST VOYAGES
The "Star Trek – Voyager" that could have been
by Soledad
Alternate 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.
Rating: G, for this part.
Author's notes: It's high time to take a look at the mysterious runabout, isn't it? Don't hope for revelations where her crew is concerned, though. That'll come later. Much later. Though TNG fans might be able to make an educated guess.
As for the technobabble, I freely admit that I don't really understand the differences between all those phenomena that keep popping up in all Trek series. But since they're all fictional anyway, I try not to feel terribly guilty.
Beta-red by the most generous Brigid, whom I owe my sincerest gratitude. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Meanwhile somewhere in the Delta Quadrant…
It bordered on a miracle that the Shenandoah had survived the forced transfer halfway through the Galaxy, but these little vessels were surprisingly resilient. The warp drive had barely taken any damage – at least not more than the two crewmembers, neither of them an engineer, could repair without professional help. Impulse engines and thrusters were in working order as well, and after the first skittish reactions even the main computer could be persuaded to return to normal.
Just in time to tell them that they were seventy thousand light years from their actual destination.
"We are in trouble," the leader of the mission summarized.
She was a thin but steel-hard, dark-haired Bajoran woman who had earned the code name Raven-takes-the-Bow with her superior piloting skills. Of course, for day-to-day use she was simply called Raven, the rightness of that name being emphasized by a delicate bone crest on the bridge of her nose instead of the usual ridges of her people. A crest that branched out in an elegant, forked arch above her dark brows – a trait shared only by a small minority of Bajorans. It gave her otherwise rather plain face an aristocratic air.
"At least we seem to have ridden the displacement wave rather than colliding with it," her partner, a bearded human male, replied.
He was tall and almost painfully thin though his build would have indicated a much heavier body. His high-necked shirt hid the more obvious signs, but Raven had seen him naked. Even though he always insisted on shutting the lights off when they were together, she was well aware of the multitude of bruises, burns and lacerations that covered his whole body. He had obviously been extensively tortured in the Cardassian prison from which the Maquis had miraculously managed to free him not so long ago. And while his physical wounds were healing as much as could be expected, and he had gained back some of the weight he had lost, his haunted eyes – unnaturally big in his haggard face – told of memories that weren't likely to fade any time soon.
He was known under the code name Greywolf among the Maquis cell leaders, and though Raven had known his personal history before they even met, she was still utterly shocked from the damage he had suffered in the prison camp. Being a Bajoran, Raven had seen some horrible things in her life – including the execution of her own father by the Cardassians – she had never seen anyone being tortured to death slowly and deliberately. According to the Maquis medic, Greywolf wouldn't have held out much longer. There is only so much pain a body can endure without breaking beyond repair.
But they had rescued him just days before he would reach that breaking point, and the man, unbelievable but true, was actually about to return to normal. Some of the scars were too bad, even for the regenerator, but otherwise he was bouncing back with a determination rarely seen even among Bajorans. And now, that he looked a lot less like his alter ego, Raven felt less awkward around him than she had before.
She still asked herself if it had been wise to get involved with him, though. There was some unpleasant mixing of memories that might have been better avoided.
Of course, it was way too late for that now. They were stuck together, probably for the rest of their lives. Lost in the Delta Quadrant.
Raven shook her head, her ceremonial earring clinking, and concentrated on the problems at hand. If they were unlucky enough, she'd have a very long time contemplating her choices.
"Have you tried to reach the Crazy Horse?" she asked. Greywolf nodded.
"No answer so far. I wonder whether they made it through with us at all," he answered with a sigh. Raven shot him an angry look.
"They better had. Or I'll hunt down Chakotay in the afterlife personally and make his happy hunting grounds a lot less happy."
"Raven," the man said patiently, "you do realize how small the chance is that a battered old vessel like the Crazy Horse would make it through that displacement wave, don't you?"
"Of course I do," she replied angrily. "But I also know that Chakotay was sitting in the pilot seat of that handful of rusty metal. The man could fly a torpedo casket through an ion storm and come out on the other end unharmed. If anyone, he'd bring the Crazy Horse through this energy wave."
"If anyone," Greywolf emphasized. "You still have to take into consideration that – regardless of Chakotay's piloting skills – they might not have made it."
"No!" Raven said calmly, through her dark eyes blazed. "I'm not willing to even consider having lost another good man to the thrice-damned spoonheads! Or to some random energy wave. Until I see some hard proof, I'll keep believing that they've made it."
"It's your choice," Greywolf shrugged. "I for my part prefer to remain realistic. But that displacement wave… I doubt that it was a random one. Or a natural phenomenon. Remember, just after we arrived here, we were scanned by something – or someone. And after that, we found the Shenandoah hundreds of light years from the original coordinates of our arrival --- and ourselves missing four days' worth of memories. That can't be a coincidence."
"Agreed," Raven said. "Someone or something brought us here. Then it probably studied us for a while. Until it decided that we weren't worth keeping and threw us out of the way."
"Which means… what exactly?" Greywolf asked.
"It means that the answers we need are still there where we first arrived in the Delta Quadrant," Raven answered grimly. "Maybe the people of the Crazy Horse are there, too. But even if they aren't – I want those answers."
"With other words: we are going back," Greywolf guessed.
Raven gave him a determined nod.
"You bet we do. Let the computer retrace our course, then reverse directions and switch to autopilot. It should be easily doable."
"It is. That's not the point, Raven."
"So? What is the point then?"
"The point is that some extremely powerful and dangerous entity apparently decided that we are not worth its attention. For which we should be grateful."
"And do what? Limp back to the Alpha Quadrant on our own? Sure, at top speed it would only take a hundred standard years or so…"
"You really think that we have a better chance by turning back?"
"You really think that we have any other chance?"
Greywolf didn't. Not really. So he just sighed in defeat and ordered the computer to retrace their course.
"With maximum Warp we'll need about six days to reach the original coordinates," Greywolf said when the machine finally spat out the results.
"Can the engines take it?" Raven asked. "I know all the tests checked out fine, but we've taken quite a shaking, you know?"
Greywolf shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Only the real thing will show how fine they truly are. So, what should we do? You're the boss."
"Not here," Raven said, "not anymore. We only have each other out here, and if we want to find the Crazy Horse, we must work in tandem."
"But you do want to go back to the original coordinates, right?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"No. Not yet. But there will probably be one, once we are back. In the form of a very powerful and royally pissed entity. Or a whole lot of very powerful and royally pissed entities."
"Fine," Raven sat back into her pilot's chair and crossed her arms. "You have a better plan? Tell me."
"I haven't," Greywolf admitted. "I just…"
"You are just being self-righteous and annoying," Raven said, clearly irritated. "Just like your… like the other version of you."
Greywolf stiffened involuntarily. This was a topic they usually avoided very carefully.
"Look," he said through gritted teeth, "we are probably damned to spend our lives alone in the Delta Quadrant. It would be better if we could leave my… a certain person out of the game. I know you had a thing with him, but…"
"For a few days only," replied Raven defensively, "and just because I… we both had our memories blocked."
"But you were attracted to him, weren't you? And he was attracted to you. Otherwise the two of you wouldn't have got involved in the moment all the knowledge of your previous differences was out of the way."
Raven shrugged. "He was… well, I guess he still is… a big hunk of a man. I like that in a partner, so what? Are you jealous?"
"Jealous?" Greywolf frowned. "No, I'm just sick and tired of being compared with him all the time. Besides, we are not involved in any way. All we have together is a little fun."
"True enough," Raven nodded, "but what I meant is: are you still jealous of him? For having the life you've always thought would be yours? For having way more luck than you had… than you could ever hope to have?"
"I don't want to talk about it," the human answered dismissively. Raven let out an impatient sigh.
"I understand that. But you should. Otherwise you'll never have a life of your own. You'll always waste your time with fighting his shadow. Think about it. You deserve better."
"I said I don't want to talk about it," Greywolf repeated tersely. Especially not with you."
"You should reconsider," said Raven seriously. "Who else is here to talk to? And who else may ever be here who knows both of you – and the whole situation? But do as you wish. I can't force you to come to your senses. Now, what's the highest speed you'd suggest?"
"Warp 5," Greywolf answered promptly. "Even if problems do start popping up, at that speed, and with a little TLC, we should be able to manage."
"TLC?" the Bajoran repeated with a puzzled look. Greywolf grinned.
"Human jargon. It means 'tender, loving care'."
"I see," Raven frowned again. "Not exactly my field of expertise, in any department. All right, let's reverse our course. I'll fly, and you can do that caring part. With tender lover or whatever."
They had backtracked for almost five standard days. It was a long, arduous journey, during which they had barely spoken to each other. Greywolf was brooding in his co-pilot's seat – although Raven thought it was more like sulking – while the autopilot flew their small vessel and the Bajoran was going through old meditative chants that she had learned in her childhood.
"I thought you weren't on the best terms with your precious Prophets," Greywolf said on the fifth day, when his shipmate's constant humming started getting on his nerves. "You said you weren't particularly religious."
"I'm not," she replied. "But I was brought up in the faith of my people. And out here – what other home do I have? It's comforting."
Before Greywolf could give any answer, they were hit by something. Hard. So hard that the runabout dropped out of warp and came to full stop.
Raven sprinted forward to her pilot's seat, switching on the long-range scanners that had been off-line to lessen the drain on the engines. "What the hell…"
She ran a routine scan on the space before them, using maximum scanning range, and her face darkened.
"Damn it! We've run into some sort of spatial distortions. They keep emanating from a certain time-space disturbance."
"What sort of phenomenon?" Greywolf asked. "A cosmic string fragment perhaps? Or a random distortion ring?"
"Nah, the gravimetric flux density is too high for that," Raven answered, running more specific scans on the phenomenon."
Greywolf's pale face became ghostly white under his dark beard. "How high?"
"Over two thousand per cent," Raven said grimly. "All signs indicate a Type Four quantum singularity."
"Do we have any chance to avoid being caught in the event horizon?" Greywolf asked.
Raven shook her head regretfully. "Afraid not. The moment we were hit by the distortion waves, we got trapped already. I am very sorry. Had I not insisted that we return to the original coordinates, we would have at least a few more decades to live. Even if we'd have to spend them here, in the Delta Quadrant."
"Or the same thing could have happened tomorrow, in the opposite direction," Greywolf pointed out. "It wasn't your fault."
"Maybe not, maybe it was. What should we do now?"
"Send a distress call. And hope that there is someone in this quadrant with a technology advanced enough to pull us out."
"And if there isn't?"
"Well, in that case we'll have enough time to talk about everything we want."
TBC