Disclaimer: This was actually a submission made to the Strange New Worlds contest last year but regrettably didn't make the cut. The editor said there was problems with the story insofar as holding the reader's interest was concerned. I'd appreciate any advice you folks can give me to help work on this problem of mine, so that I don't repeat any mistakes for next year's contest. So here ya go: "Clockwork".
Hear me, but don't just hear me. You should listen.
This has concerned you, this 'will' concern you. All of you, in time that is. That was my business once, time. Then it drove our people away from right and reason. I know the future, have seen it. That, also, was part of the job. It's the past which seems like such an enigma now. How did it come to this, and why did you have to be caught in the middle of it all?
Voyager
What a majestic name. You must have overcome a lot in your time away from home. I wish we could have had the chance to meet, to talk and exchange stories of trials we've both come to face. But alas, good friends, that simply isn't meant to be. For you will come to our world, but I shall not be there to welcome you. You will leave behind many friends, but I will not be one of them who says goodbye.
I only hope you understand, Voyager, that somehow, some way, I was once able to help either you or one among you in your journey home.
Hear me . . . listen to me . . .
Tuvok and Chakotay exchanged perplexed looks.
"Is there anything else?" the Commander asked.
"The pilot's flight recorder and database were both heavily damaged. No further information seems to have survived."
Chakotay nodded, then jumped back as sparks exploded from the derelict ship's console.
"We'll download what we can, then head back to the ship. Perhaps the locals can shed a bit more light on what's going on."
Captain's Log: Stardate 52630.4. With our provisions now at less than half capacity, we've been resigned to exploring the sector in order to replenish our deuterium as well as find potential traders to barter with. But it hasn't been easy. The only inhabited planet in the sector is home to a race whose history of temporal science has placed them in dispute with their closest neighbors. The failure of diplomacy couldn't have come at a worse time.
"I hope you don't take this cold shoulder of mine as common behavior, Captain. It's just that this has been a very delicate time for me and my people. Just when we've begun to build a future for ourselves centered around the arts, new friends turn into old adversaries all over again."
Sural, High Consul of the New Surelian Embassy, hated taking walks. Granted, a stroll from one atrium to the next allowed for him to keep track of all his potential young musicians, but at the same time it was reminding him of everything they stood to lose in the weeks to come. Captain Janeway and her away team stayed close by, taking heart of how emotional the Consul was feeling but at the same time trying to find opening as to deliberation over trading for or finding supplies.
"Worse than this, I've suddenly started to receive transmissions from a Re'eman colleague I had believed to be dead for over thirty years. He speaks as though our unification with the Re'em Order never happened. It's all quite heartbreaking, as you can probably imagine."
"I understand," the Captain replied, "And believe me, we're sympathetic towards your situation. However, we have a directive that forbids us in interfering with the affairs of other races. Other than this, we'd be more than happy to assist in whatever other way we can."
Sural nodded, not wishing to comment on this woman's hypocrisy or their alleged 'directive'. Instead, he turned his attention back to the concerto his intermediate class was performing for their guests, or rather 'trying' to perform. The impact which these new conflicts were having on their ability to concentrate was not lost on their audience. Faces were strained, hands and fingers had considerable difficulty wielding their respective instruments, and the overall melody it came to produce was worse than listening to their EMH trying to sing a piece from Rigoletto.
Janeway and her away team gave them polite applause when they had finished, but Sural's spirits seem to have sunken even further and he sent them all back to their studies.
"You said there was another matter you wished to discuss," he inquired, more than willing to change the subject to practically anything else.
"That's right. It has to do with the wreckage of a vessel we came across less than a parsec from here. It had a Surelian signature to it and when we analyzed its database, the last surviving log entry of the pilot referred to Voyager by name. Do you have any theories?"
"An aberration of some type of temporal phenomena, most likely. We once had technology that could scan the timeline for any inconsistencies, though it had been part of our agreement with the Re'em Order to dismantle all of our temporal components. I do apologize."
Janeway nodded, rubbing the bridge of her nose as if trying to stem the headache which she knew was coming. Time travel, she thought disdainfully. It was the single mystery in all the cosmos which she could have gladly gone without. She would have sooner preferred another round with the Borg or Species 8472 over trying to sort out some manner of temporal conundrum.
"Has your technology ever produced any type of secondary effect in this region? Tachyon surges, a temporal sinkhole, a tear in the fabric of space-time?"
The Consul shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of, Captain. I mean after all, we've come into contact with a plethora of other vessels over the past couple of years, and none of them have come to report this type of mystery."
"I see. Well, thank-you for the information. I just wish we could have been more helpful to you."
"And I you, Captain. You understand that, while this region is in dispute any other deliberations will have to be put on hold. That includes for supplies."
"Compared to what you and your people are coping with, a shortage of deuterium is just a minor inconvenience."
Sural gave a half-smile, then abandoned the atria for their chamber of parliament. Janeway sighed as she pressed her combadge to give the order for beam-up. Hardly the perfect First Contact, she thought to herself.
"Pleasestate the nature–"
But the Doctor stopped in midsentence. No sooner had he materialized next to the main biobed in Sickbay did he find Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Paris completing an emergency transport. The EMH mused silently to himself over a legitimate diagnosis as he helped Tom in getting B'Elanna onto the biobed.
"Mr. Paris, what happened?"
"Same old story, Doc. An evening that goes from a romantic dinner for two in Naples to a round of ParrisesSquares, courtesy of the headstrong con officer."
"On the holodeck?" The Doctor grabbed a medical tricorder and started taking a few readings. "Why weren't the safety protocols on?"
"B'Elanna wanted to increase the handicap by turning them off, make it more of a challenge for the both of us."
The Doctor sighed and loaded a hypospray. "Whatever happened to dinner and a movie?"
With the analgesic quickly taking effect, B'Elanna started to come around. Her first impulse was to spring off of the biobed, as though the Parrises Squares match was still continuing. Tom was there to restrain her.
"It's okay," he assured her, "You're in Sickbay."
"What happened?"
"You lost," the Doctor replied, his back turned to the both of them.
B'Elanna sank back down on the cushion. "Damn it! I knew I should have dodged."
"Next time we'll just stick to good, old-fashioned hoverball."
"Oh no, you don't. You still owe me a rematch."
Despite himself, the Doctor sighed yet again. He might as well inform the transporter chief to lock onto their signals for their next 'evening together'.
"Rematches can wait," he said at last. "That strike to your head ruptured an artery in your frontal lobe. I'll have to operate."
"Janeway to Ensign Paris."
Tom straightened and pressed his combadge. "Paris here."
"We're in the process of plotting a course around Re'eman space. You're needed on the bridge."
"On my way." He brushed a stray wisp of hair away from B'Elanna's badly bruised forehead. "Don't worry. You'll have ample opportunity to whip me next time."
She gave a weak smile. "I look forward to it."
"How are things looking out there?"
Tuvok and Janeway were only just returning to the bridge when Chakotay came to give her the rundown of any anomalous readings or possible confrontations along the Surelian border.
The captain was noticeably glad to be back in her seat, even if she was only gone for a matter of hours. A knot always seemed to well up in her stomach whenever she was away from the captain's chair for too long. It wasn't that she didn't trust her first officer, only that it was a captain's prerogative to be with her ship and crew before setting out into unfriendly waters. Voyager had been through entirely too much over the past five years to take any unnecessary chances.
"Censors have detected only a handful of vessels along the outskirts of Surelian space. None of them are armed, though."
"Bridge to Astrometrics, Seven are you detecting anything out of the ordinary beyond the Surelian border?"
"There is only a single type-three cruiser with limited armaments. They do not pose a threat."
"Acknowledged." Tom, at that moment, was just stepping through the turbolift doors to replace Ensign Strickler's spot at the helm. "Mr. Paris, plot a course around Re'eman space, warp five."
"Yes, ma'am."
She turned full about. "Mr. Kim, maintain continuous scans of the region. Our deuterium supply is going to have to be replenished elsewhere and as soon as we come across it, I want to be ready."
"Understood."
"I should probably point out," Tuvok added, "that any attempt to locate deuterium on the frontiers of Re'em space could provoke a conflict from patrol ships."
"That's why we're going to maintain Yellow Alert at all times, just in case. If the Surelians and Re'emans are still on conflict, it's possible they may react harshly."
Well, she thought, now that everything was in order . . .
"I'll be in my Ready Room. Chakotay, you have the bridge."
After two hours of holding silent vigil over stars racing past the ship, not to mention the predictability of Tom's casual remarks, the commander grew restless from just sitting around and went to join the captain in her Ready Room. No sooner did the doors whir open did he hear music. It was classical this time, not the typical jazz selection she usually listened to when trying to relax. As always, however, there was the scent of freshly replicated coffee.
"Mahler?" he asked, concerning her choice of a musician.
"Strauß," she replied.
"Ah."
"I was actually expecting you a bit sooner." She stood up from her desk and walked over to the replicator to refill her cup. "Coffee?"
"Only if it's decaf."
She smiled and nodded, making the necessary adjustment on the controls. While she went about doing so, Chakotay couldn't help but steal a glance over at her monitor as well as the many PADD's that littered her desk. He recognized some of the equations almost instantly.
"Pouring over temporal mechanics?"
She nodded and shrugged, looking somewhat guilty for keeping it from her first officer. "It's had to do with the region of space we're occupying."
"Well," said Chakotay, "that answers my next question, then."
She sat back down in her seat and picked up the closest PADD she could get her hands on.
"I've never had a head for time travel, Chakotay. Never liked going anywhere near the stuff. Ever since I took Fassbinder's temporal mechanics course at the Academy, it's pretty much become a life goal of mine to avoid it outright."
"I can relate," the Commander replied, sipping his drink. "I failed Fassbinder's course."
"So did I."
Chakotay almost choked on his coffee.
"Kathryn Janeway failing a course?"
A look of shocked amusement played over his tattooed face, and Janeway couldn't help but be somewhat amused herself.
"Hard to believe, isn't it? So, I figured I owed it to myself, not to mention Voyager, to brush up a bit on the subject until we're well beyond Surelian space."
"Having any better luck this time around?"
"'Dali Paradox' this and 'Causality Loop' that. It may as well be Borg encryption codes for all I know."
"Maybe Seven can give you a leg up?" Chakotay suggested, half-jokingly.
"I sure wish someone would. The last thing this ship needs is to be caught up in some sort of temporal scenario with a captain that has problems enough telling time, much less trying to straighten it out."
Chakotay chuckled, about ready to comment when, out of nowhere, a violent tremor rocked the ship. Tendrils of 'The Blue Danube' winked out, replaced with Ensign Harry Kim's panic-stricken voice.
"Captain to the bridge!" he called over the intercom.
Nothing else needed to be said. Janeway and Chakotay were back on the bridge in literally seconds, perplexed to find the sole Re'em cruiser they'd detected some two hours earlier opening fire on them.
"No response to hails. And they're firing again!"
The captain grabbed the nearest handrail, scarcely able to brace herself in time as another blast struck Voyager's port side.
"Shields are holding," Tuvok reported. "No damage."
"Open a channel to that ship," Janeway ordered with as much patience as she could muster.
"Channel open."
"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. We have no hostile intent towards you or your people. We're just on our way home, and would like safe passage around your space."
After a moment's silence, the main viewer lit up with a stern and imposing visage - not at all the purplish hue of a native Surelian, but more darker with a shade of green.
"Commodore Vaax, of the Re'em Salvage Operation. And this region of space does not open its arms to those who consort with our enemies."
Janeway put a hand on her hip, trying her best not to sound irritated. "We haven't been consorting with your enemies," she answered, remembering not to bring up her conversation with Sural out of respect of the Prime Directive. "We were only getting some very general information about this sector of space. Nothing more."
"Pertaining to temporal engineering, no doubt. Perhaps you are looking to acquire the Clockwork Array for yourself."
"The Clockwork Array?" The captain couldn't help but feel even somewhat curious, the scientist in her waxing. Nonetheless, she couldn't afford to lose sight of her objectivity, especially when it came to playing the diplomat. "Whatever salvage operation your conducting, I assure you that we're just here in passing."
The commodore gritted a set of silver-plated teeth. "No one crosses or circumnavigates this sector of space until the array is under our control."
And communication was suddenly severed.
"Charming fellow," said Tom offhandedly.
"And adamant to a fault." Janeway returned to her chair. "Back us off five million kilometers from their border, Mr. Paris. Give them all the time they need."
"Yes, ma'am."
The entire bridge crew seemed to heave out a collective sigh of impatience, as though no matter how many times this type of obstacle presented itself it was never something they could get used to very easily. To back Voyager off meant to stay within the boundaries of Surelian space. To circumnavigate Re'em territory would take over several months, and their captain wasn't about to settle for that. Even if she was, their deuterium would likely run out before such a trek was over and done with.
Once more, Janeway contacted Astrometrics. "Seven, are you detecting any other sources of deuterium in the vicinity, anything that isn't under the jurisdiction of either the Re'emans or the Surelians?"
"All key areas within this sector to contain deuterium are encompassed within Re'em space." Another moment of silent scanning. "Our only other option would be to deviate from our course to a binary system, less than ten light years from here."
Janeway looked over to her first officer for assistance but he only shook his head.
"Don't look at me," he replied, "This has always been your call."
She bit her lip in thought. "Far be it for me to throw in the towel this quickly, but right now it doesn't look like we have any other choice. Seven, relay those coordinates to the helm. Mr. Paris, once you've received–"
"Captain," Kim interrupted. "We're receiving an urgent hail from a vessel on short range sensors."
Janeway looked across at her operations officer. "A Re'em ship?"
"No, Surelian."
"Confirmed," Tuvok added. "It appears to be a survey vessel of some kind, minimum shielding, no armaments."
"Why didn't our scans reveal it earlier?"
"It was not present earlier."
The captain rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Open a channel, Ensign."
The viewscreen flickered, and the bridge crew were pleased to find the lavender face of a Surelian native looking back at them.
"Good day to you, strangers from afar. I take it you've been having much the same problem as all of my people have encountered as of late."
Janeway seemed to like him immediately. Even despite the dispute his region had endured as of late, he appeared unusually cool about speaking with an alien ship.
"An understatement to say the least."
"I knew it!" He momentarily turned away from his own viewscreen to monitor a display on one of his consoles. "Well then, to say that we haven't always been two warring species would as well be an understatement, would it not? I mean, after all, even the most vicious of plasma storms have their peaceful eddies, miss . . . I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"
She smiled. "I didn't. Captain Kathryn Janeway, of the Federation Starship Voyager."
"I see," he said. "That's quite a . . . long title."
She cracked an amused grin. "You seem to be taking an awfully big risk with any surveying this close to Re'em territory. Minimum shields, no weapons. I don't suppose I can ask you what you're doing this far away from your homeworld."
He leaned in close to the monitor and started to whisper, as though someone could have been eavesdropping on the entire conversation. "I'm rather hesitant to speak about it over an open com channel, Captain. Perhaps there is some place we could go to speak more privately."
"By all means." She turned to Tuvok. "Commander, tractor his vessel into the shuttlebay, and make arrangements to have our guest beamed aboard."
"Aye, captain."
"Janeway to all senior staff, report to the Briefing Room in ten minutes."
"I'm afraid Lieutenant Torres and I will be somewhat delayed," said the Doctor over the com. "Her recovery is running into a few . . . obstacles."
Unbeknownst to the rest of the crew, 'obstacles' was somewhat oversimplifying it. Almost the moment the captain had given her address to the senior staff, Lieutenant Torres had aged well over twenty years.
Professor Saelyn, as the stray Surelian had come to call himself, was soon after welcomed aboard with all of the hospitality Janeway could muster in the wake of a growing temporal crisis. Trying to be a cordial host while, at the same time, struggling to fathom how her chief engineer had suddenly reached middle age was a bit more than she could take in the span of a single afternoon. The professor almost didn't need to be told, opting to get right to the point over the dispensing of needless pleasantries.
"I trust that you've already been in contact with Sural," he began when all of them (excluding Torres and the Doctor) had gathered in the Briefing Room. "He may have already informed you of the peace established between ourselves and the Re'emans."
Janeway reclined back in her chair. "The way the consul tells it, the peace which the two of your peoples have found has been somewhat short-lived. He's discussing options with his parliament even now as to what can be done to reestablish order."
"I knew it!" the professor exclaimed, and the senior staff waited in silence for him to say more. "So it would seem that both our present and their past are in temporal sync with one another."
Tuvok straightened. "Temporal sync?"
"Yes. Well, that is to say that a race who's been in the dark for nearly six decades would only naturally pick up where they left off on old hostilities. The Re'em Order has always been rather jealous of our advances in temporal science."
But the captain shook her head. "I don't see how a new conflict could arise now that your people have become artisans over scientists."
"Forgive me," Saelyn replied, "But you'll have to perceive this from a temporal engineer's point of view. Old hostilities aren't being started anew. The Re'emans you've no doubt encountered by now are, in every respect, the Re'emans of six decades prior. To them, it's as though the peace treaty we've signed never happened, and they're going to continue hunting our space and hounding our government as though there never will be."
Everyone present allowed for this new information to sink in. The professor's explanation answered many of their questions and, at once, brought up a host of new ones.
"What was it that could have caused this type of phenomenon?" Chakotay was the first to ask.
"The only theory I have for that, Commander, is that the Re'emans of the past must have gotten their hands on some device of ours and wound up mishandling it in some way or other. Spacecrafts, an array . . ."
"The Clockwork Array," Tom spoke up, having been preoccupied with B'Elanna's condition up until now. "One of the Re'em ships we encountered mentioned they were part of some sort of salvage operation to take it as their own."
The professor suddenly seemed beside himself with worry. "The . . . Clockwork Array?"
"Professor?"
"Well, it's just . . . Imean, that changes everything. I mean, it would have made it so much simpler had it been just a cruiser or one of our patented time-space slingshots. But the array itself . . . I honestly wasn't prepared for that."
"What is it about this array that sets it apart from any other of your inventions?"
"It was the first of our inventions that dealt with the concept of time travel, and a failed one at that. By utilizing what we called a temporal nexus, the Clockwork Array could form a rift in the fabric of space-time through to either the future or the past. We had intended to use the array to inform us of any stellar phenomena that would endanger our future or to cure some disease that had once plagued our past.
"But the nexus became unstable. Even our finest engineers couldn't rectify the problem, and there simply wasn't enough antimatter left for us to sustain the space-time reaction. So the array was abandoned, which we believed would be no more use to anyone other than scrap metal. Apparently, we were mistaken."
"So the question remains," remarked the Captain, "what do we do to set both Re'em and Surelian space back into temporal sync with the present?"
"Quite simple. We'll need to destroy the array, and I can show you precisely how it can be done. I'd have taken care of the problem myself, except that it's become rather difficult to scan Re'em space without being detected."
"We may be able to localize the array's position from Astrometrics," Seven answered. "Its sensors can scan Re'em space for any anomalous temporal signatures."
"Get on it," said Janeway, standing to convene their briefing. "And in the meanwhile, Mr. Neelix will escort you to your quarters."
"Absolutely, captain."
"Well," said Saelyn, standing before their senior Talaxian had the chance to, "If it's all the same with you Captain, I'd like to assist your Astrometrics officer with those scans as soon as possible."
Janeway nodded, secretly glad for the professor's punctuality. Whatever it took, she thought, to put this mission behind Voyager - not to mention Voyager's chief engineer . . .
"Temporal sensors?"
From the very second Voyager's ex-Borg had spoken up back at their briefing concerning temporal scans, the professor rode along on Seven's coattails everywhere she went and through everything she did. The last thing he wanted was to be an irritant to this crew, but temporal theorems and space-time postulates had seized Saelyn to the point of no holding back. Indeed, it required everything in Seven's power not to reprimand him or even knock him senseless.
"That is correct," she said, pining for an instant of silent scanning. "Bioneural circuitry combined with Borg ingenuity allow for us to simultaneously analyze the continuum of over three hundred parsecs of space in only a few minutes."
"Astounding." And the professor continued to sift through Voyager's astro-temporal database - something that wasn't necessary in their search for the array. "And about these transwarp conduits a Borg ship can open. Generally, the temporal stresses in one of these conduits should rightfully breach the hull of even a Borg vessel. How do you compensate for that?"
Seven gave an angry sigh. "The Borg vessel generates a chronoton field from its warp core, then projects the singularity throughout the ship to keep it within temporal sync until it arrives at an exit aperture."
"I knew it!" The professor swivelled around to Seven's other side. "And what about–"
Seven had enough. "Professor!"
Silence. Her reply came out somewhat more harshly than she had intended, but this inane line of questioning needed to stop.
"Professor," she repeated, more calmly this time, "It is imperative that we find this array before the Re'emans misuse it."
"Yes," he said. "Of course. I apologize. Distractions can become commonplace in my field when there's still a great deal left to understand regarding time travel."
Seven kept her eyes on the console in front of her. "It is easy enough to be distracted while our chief engineer's condition continues to deteriorate."
"Your chief engineer?" Saelyn fell into a steady synchrony of working the console immediately alongside her own. "I'm sorry. I was not made aware. What's the problem?"
"The Doctor has not been able to ascertain that as of yet, although accelerated aging and a lowered immune response appear to be the primary symptoms."
A quiet moment passed between the two of them, one which Seven would have rather preferred as a moment of being assured of B'Elanna's recovery. Saelyn, on the other hand, was too lost in thought concerning the symptoms she had described to him, as though they were familiar somehow.
"Professor?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that her condition reminds me of what I had to see my wife suffer through at one time."
"Rapid aging?"
"Quite the opposite, actually. No, she . . . kept getting younger. And younger and younger. Before long, her own immune system began to fail. Her body stopped producing antibodies. By the time the condition claimed her life, she couldn't have been much older than five years of age. I always knew that time could be cruel, but never like that."
"This condition could be the result of an unforeseen side effect from your experimentation in this region."
Saelyn nodded, considering the possibilities.
"All the more reason for us to find that array as quickly as possible."
"B'Elanna?"
Tom could barely recognize her anymore. Her hair had gone snow white, her fleshing hanging down in folds along her face and hands. It seemed to him a painful reminder of what he had felt once when he was forced to watch one of his aunts die, only this time he would be losing his soulmate.
"Tom . . ."
He was taken aback in hearing her unsteady voice, not only because it was barely recognizable but that she still had enough energy to speak. Tom struggled to wrap his mind around it all. What was going on? He must have scanned her at least three times with his tricorder but still couldn't understand why the hypospray wasn't taking effect. The only explanation the Doctor had given him was that, the artery which had ruptured in her head had progressed steadily into a form of edema. But that still didn't explain why she was now almost sixty years of age.
"You're looking better."
B'Elanna did her best to smile. "Wonderful . . . diagnosis, doc."
Janeway stood with the Doctor off to one side, both speechless as to what they were seeing unfold before them. They came to much the same conclusion of B'Elanna's condition as Seven had earlier, that this region of space must have suffered some type of secondary effect from the array's malfunction. The only question that still lingered on the captain's mind was, could the effects be reversed?
"I'm dubious," said the Doctor as he showed her the latest results from his microcellular analysis. "Assuming that we ultimately clear this web of 'fast time' we've fallen into, my treatment will eventually counteract the effects of the edema. But the accelerated aging is a different matter altogether. I'm not so sure it can be reversed at all."
A look of sharpened consternation passed across Janeway's expression, and she felt her headache evolve into a migraine. "What about her original DNA, her genetic code before she started to age? Couldn't we use that as a template to return her to her original form?"
"We could if this type of aging was natural," he replied, "Or was the work of an alien influence. But not the cause of a temporal phenomenon of this magnitude. It would require more time to study in greater detail."
"But does B'Elanna have that kind of time?"
His own hesitation to answer was all the reply she needed.
"Seven of Nine to the Captain."
"Go ahead, Seven."
"Captain, we've located the array. It lies one-point-seven light-years into Re'em space."
Your timing is as impeccable as always, she thought to herself.
"Acknowledged. Relay those coordinates to the helm, and then report to the bridge. Bring the professor with you."
"Understood."
"Tom," Her voice was not that of a commanding officer this time, but of a friend who knew well the pain of losing a loved one. "I'm going to need you at the helm."
He nodded, knowing that his duty to the crew came first and foremost. Did he have any regrets, any things left unsaid that he wanted to tell her? He remembered asking himself the same question concerning his father at one time. But in moments of indecision such as these, he generally fell back on work or some duty assignment to take his mind off of it. And right now, a conflict with some aggressive race sounded like the perfect distraction.
It wasn't long after Voyager had breached the Re'em border that the locals started to react. Even at high warp, there was no shaking the salvage ships as they closed in on all fronts. Volleys of enemy fire came at the ship hard and fast, punching at and bruising their defenses but never penetrating them. Captain Janeway held back from returning fire, at least until their own situation forced them to. She didn't want to provoke these people any more than they already had from disobeying their orders.
"No response to hails. They are firing again." Tuvok barely had time to get the words out of his mouth when another concussive force rocked the bridge. "Direct hit. Aft shields down to sixty-three percent."
"How far away are we from the array?"
"Less than two million kilometers," Tom reported.
The professor and Seven of Nine manned the science console, making absolutely certain that the readings being received from the array were genuine. All the while, the Re'emans continued their assault, shifting strategies so that damage became focused on a single shield vector all at once. Another volley struck hard to port side, knocking Voyager off its equilibrium. EPS relays ruptured all throughout the ship this time, sending a string of violent explosions cutting across the bridge.
"Aft shields are down!"
"Reroute auxiliary power to the aft shield array!" The captain turned askance in her chair. "Professor?"
"Over eleven hundred meters in diameter, temporal variance of nine-point-nine-five microseconds . . ." He nodded assuringly. "It's the Clockwork Array alright."
She brought herself up to a standing position. "Open a channel to our 'escorts'."
"Channel open."
"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway. Our intentions are peaceful, but we have business with the array you're trying to salvage."
Seconds later, the familiar but unfriendly visage of Commodore Vaax blinked into being on the main viewer. "You have already been warned of violating our borders. Now, you wish to upset a very sensitive salvage operation? Have you no common courtesy?!"
"Commodore, that array is causing critical damage to this region of space. It has to be neutralized both here and now."
"If it is causing damage to 'our' region of space, then it will be 'our' problem. Not yours!"
The captain shook her head. "But it's also produced something of a secondary effect that's caused a member of my crew to become gravely ill. Isn't there some way we could come to–"
The link was suddenly severed.
"Five hundred thousand kilometers and closing."
But the beating on Voyager continued.
"Commander," She turned to Tuvok. "Ready phasers and target their weapon systems. We'll disable them if we have to, but nothing more."
"Understood."
And Voyager retaliated. Phaser beams raked through each flank of Re'em ships one after the other, wounding some and only grazing others. More seemed to generate spontaneously from the space around them though, quick to fill in the gaps which their comrades had occupied only seconds earlier. As they continued deeper and deeper into Re'em space, Janeway came to the realization that more and more of the local authorities were being informed of their intrusion.
"Seven Re'em vessels have been disabled, Captain," Tuvok reported, "However, fourteen more are on an intercept course."
Most of what their chief security officer had said was lost in the din of another explosion on the bridge.
"Hull breach!" Kim yelled. "Deck seven!"
"Containment fields, Harry!" Chakotay's hand punched fiercely at the console off to his right side. "And evacuate the outer aft sections!"
"We're within visual range of the array."
"On-screen, Mr. Tuvok."
And the source of all their grief was suddenly in plain sight for all to see. The array had a crystalline configuration, of similar shape and dimension as the Caretaker array, only it appeared to luminesce. The surrounding space rippled and expanded, causing immense sheer forces against the hull of any craft unfortunate enough to be caught in its gravity. Janeway stiffened, all too quickly reminded of her first few moments of being stranded in the Delta quadrant. Part of her couldn't help but wonder whether or not its construction was partly influenced by another sporocystian lifeform . . .
"Professor?"
He glanced back over the console. "The array's temporal nexus is highly unstable. One direct hit should be more than enough, Captain."
Another concussive forced shook the ship.
"If we can ever get a clear enough shot," Tom added. "They got it guarded on all sides. We'll never get close enough."
Saelyn figured it would come to this, or something like this at least. "Captain, send me to do it. You can create a diversion while I destroy the array's nexus with my ship."
She took some time to consider this, then said, "But your ship has no weapons. How will you be able to destroy it?"
"With my ship," he repeated, more sullen this time.
Janeway tilted her head to one side. "I suppose you knew it was going to end this way."
He smiled. "I 'knew' it."
"Good luck."
Saelyn nodded. "And the same to you and your crew."
Hesitation, doubt, and fear in particular rattled the professor's mind as he was escorted to the shuttlebay, but he knew he was making the right decision. After all, he had far less to lose than Voyager and her crew. There were families, friends, and loved ones awaiting their return on the far end of the galaxy. All he had was a rusty old ship, and a life that should have ended beside his wife a long time ago. He sighed as he started up the pre-flight ignition sequence, plotting a course into the nexus that would obliterate the array as well as himself.
He glimpsed the ETA readout and almost felt thankful. Three minutes, he thought with a grin, time enough for one last recording.
"Hear me, but don't just hear me. You should listen . . ."
Captain's Log: Stardate 52630.4. After reinventorizing ship supplies, we've taken up orbit around the Surelian homeworld, whose inhabitants (like many other races we've come to encounter) have taken a keen interest in the tale of our travels through the Delta quadrant. Reputed to have once been engineers of temporal science, the Surelians have long since dismantled their technological marvels in favor of adopting a more artisan way of life.
"Since my people first came to grasp the dynamics of temporal causality, we knew there would be the outside chance that others of our circle would come to manipulate time for their own benefit."
Sural, High Consul of the New Surelian Embassy, loved taking walks. To him, a nice leisurely stroll from one atrium to the next helped to clear his mind as well as to give him a sense of order. It also allowed for the consul to keep track of his potentials, young men and women who delighted in their training as musicians. The percussive section seemed especially harmonious today now that they had visitors from afar to entertain.
"Exacting revenge against an adversary, acquiring wealth, overthrowing our embassy. Who's to say none would act on such impulses with time travel finally within reach of us?"
Captain Janeway nodded and kept in step with the consul while her away team trailed close behind her. "How long was it before your technology forced you to take more drastic measures?"
"Nearly two centuries."
"Two centuries?" The captain was taken aback. Even the Temporal Cold Wars of the twenty-second century never lasted beyond more than a couple of decades. "And you never tried implementing any protocols or directives that would limit any misuse of your technology?"
The consul gave a smile which seemed to split his lavender face. "What would be the point of protocols if one of our kind could just as easily go back in time and undermine them? No. We found that the best course of action was to deconstruct all of our temporal components. And looking back on it, it didn't seem to be all that big a mistake after all."
The captain smiled back as Sural's most gifted concluded their concerto. All of her officers smiled and clapped in genuine appreciation, all but Tuvok who was trying to conclude his scan of the atria for tachyon signatures.
"Does our music not please him?" asked the consul to Janeway.
"It isn't that," she replied, "It's just that our vessel has detected signs of temporal instability in this sector of space. Tell me," She led him away from her officers for a more private word with him, "your technology was experimented with just outside of orbit from your planet. Have there been any long-term effects in the region that we should know about?"
Sural's brow furrowed for a moment as he considered the question. "Our fleets and arrays were dismantled a long time ago, captain. Any lasting effects would be marginal if not nonexistent."
The captain nodded. "Of course. You'll forgive me for my directness. It's just that my crew and I have a very long journey ahead of us and it would have taken a month to navigate around this expanse."
"So your first officer has told me. Forty thousand light years, is it?" Janeway gave a mental sigh. It seemed to sound so much farther coming from the consul. "Had your crew ever considered settling on a suitable planet out here?"
"If Voyager had crossed a light year for each time someone had suggested that, we'd probably be home by now." They both laughed. "But the trek has come to be the common interest of me and my crew, plus there's the added bonus of exploring space and making first contact with people like yourself."
Sural grinned. "It's been a privilege for us as well, Captain."
Tuvok then rejoined them, having concluded his scan of the surrounding region.
"Readings have been nominal, captain. Tachyon levels are within tolerable limits. It would stand to reason that navigation through this region of space will prove to be no problem for Voyager."
"Thank-you, Tuvok."
The consul shook the vulcan's hand. "I trust our supplies will prove somewhat helpful to you in your journey home."
"Your assistance has been greatly appreciated." He, then, gave the standard vulcan hand sign. "Live long and prosper, consul."
"And you as well."
Another successful first contact, Janeway thought.
"Janeway to Voyager, four to beam up."
Captain's Log: Supplemental - The mystery deepens concerning the unusual log entry received from the wreckage of a derelict vessel less than a parsec from here. For all of their knowledge and good fellowship, the Re'em Order have been unable to provide any insight. The senior staff are similarly at a loss.
It's very strange, receiving a message from someone we know nothing about but who gives everything he holds dear just to lend a helping hand. But what's even stranger is never knowing exactly what that helping hand was, is, or will be . . .
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."
No sooner had the captain concluded her log entry was the doctor called online. Shimmering into being next to the main biobed in Sickbay, he found that it was Tom and B'Elanna. Again. The life of an EMH, he thought, sighing as he grabbed the nearest medical tricorder he could find. When were those two ever going to be more responsible?
"Lieutenant, Ensign," he said, nodding as he scanned B'Elanna's bruised cranium. "What seems to be the trouble this afternoon?"
Tom shrugged, looking somewhat abashed. "Oh, you know how it goes, Doc. Romantic dinner on a hillside restaurant in Naples, followed by a much-needed game of Parrises Squares, courtesy of the headstrong con officer."
B'Elanna smiled. "It's no big deal. A small bump on the head was worth it to get that last point and whip your butt."
They both laughed while the Doctor concluded his scan.
"Whatever happened to dinner and a movie?" He clamped his tricorder shut and picked up a dermal regenerator. "Nothing to be concerned about, though. Only a mild concussion and a hairline fracture. There. That should do it."
"Thank-you." The Doctor nodded and went to check up on the cell samples he had left overnight in his centrifuge. B'Elanna leaned into the arms of her worthy opponent, smiling cryptically. "So, what do we have planned for next week?"
Tom brushed B'Elanna's hair back from where her bruise had once been. "How does water-skiing and a marshmallow roast at Lake Tahoe sound?"
"Sounds great," she replied, keeping his gaze with her own.
"Janeway to Ensign Paris."
Tom pressed his combadge. "Paris here."
"We're in the process of plotting a course through Re'eman space. You're needed on the bridge."
"On my way."
"I guess I should be getting back to Engineering."
"Then, I'll see you later. I'll be looking forward to next week."
"Me too," B'Elanna replied.
"Me three," the Doctor added, playfully waving a hypospray in their direction.
Tom crossed his arms. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that 'Three's a crowd'?"
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that there are safer ways of painting the holodeck red than an evening of Parrises Squares?"
Both of them sighed, abandoning Sickbay for their respective posts. The Doctor smiled and went about recording his cellular analysis on a PADD.