Uninspired Voyages
A Star Trek: Voyager fanfiction by Andrew J. Talon
DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan based work of prose. Star Trek: Voyager, Deep Space Nine, The Next Generation et al are the property of CBS Television, Para creation of Gene Roddenberry. Please support the official release.
Meanwhile, back in the Alpha Quadrant... The year 2372.
Arul had always been curious about the Shepherd family. They were well known across the Federation, along with the rest of the Enterprise-D crew, for their acts of heroism during the Borg crisis. But these two, along with Commander Worf, former Captain Riker, Commander Data, and many others had passed almost into legend.
Storming a Borg Cube multiple times, to rescue Captain Picard, to sabotage them, to finally defeat the menace as it loomed over Earth... The unclassified holos alone were enough to stagger almost anyone. Even the Vulcans were quietly in awe of the fearsome warriors. Charging into battle to save the Federation, never giving up hope even after the disaster of Wolf 359.
Arul recalled that her parents had begun to make plans to evacuate. They had been but one of thousands gathering at their local spaceport. Many others had gone to temples to pray, to seek out hope in the midst of their darkest hour. Even Vulcans prayed.
Not to a deity, but to the universe. Surak himself had said that "The atoms that make up your bodies were forged in the hearts of stars billions of years ago. We are the universe's consciousness, created to undercover the deeper mysteries of life and understand the order. There is logic in everything, and we were made to seek it out. There is reason for everything, and we are meant to discover what that is."
Even the most strict Vulcan leaders had delivered their grim news with the add on: "The Enterprise is still functional. There is still hope."
It had been a lie, perhaps. But it was all they had. While Vulcans would not panic like other races, they could still break. Hyperfocus on a solution to their own survival, at the expense of others. Logic dictates that as long as enough of a species survives, it will survive. Unfortunately every other Vulcan would come to that same conclusion. Most would work together... But others would seek their own salvation. By any means necessary.
They had not had riots... But arguments, disagreements, had become almost heated. And to a Vulcan, that was nearly as bad as blood in the streets.
Then... The word was received. The Enterprise had done what all Enterprises had done, and always would:
It had triumphed, despite the impossible odds. Despite the logic of the universe itself... The Enterprise had won. The Federation was safe... For now.
There had been Vulcans who had cried... And for once, no one had admonished them for losing control. Not in that moment. She still remembered being held between her parents, watching the news screens showing the Enterprise warping away from the exploding Borg Cube.
Shepherd Junior had explained what he had been doing aboard that ship. He made it clear, later on with mind melds, that he didn't regard his own contributions to be anything. All it had done was to show that the universe was dangerous, and that he was weak. That the universe had knocked him down. Nearly killed him. It hadn't even cared, he was just in the way, and he hadn't slowed it down a bit.
In that moment... His resolve had begun to burn. He would get back up whenever the universe knocked him down, and spit in its face. He would make fun of the universe's mother. He would play games and be childish at the universe, while making it regret trying to bring him down. He would take joy in the good in the universe, and mock the bad.
For nothing could stop entropy. All things died.
However, Shepherd had sworn he would die with a smile, and a rude gesture, at an unkind universe when it brought him down.
This defiance in the face of unassailable logic... It had been what had truly made Arul fall in love with Shepherd.
For he was just like the Enterprise-Against reason, against logic, against the forces of the universe itself, he would fight on, and win.
She had gotten to know the Shepherds quite a bit in the months she had been on Deep Space Nine. Master Chief Shepherd was a quiet man, but could be witty and dry. He too enjoyed popular culture from his time, and adding to it. His wife, Doctor Shepherd, was much the same. She loved to study the universe itself, and to unlock its wonders. And they bonded over their popular culture obsessions... Though they would fight over them from time to time.
They had joined her in her quarters, allowing her space and respecting her, but doting on her. They cared deeply for her, it was true. Not just out of obligation, either. They saw a bit of Shepherd Jr. in her, this was true... But they also saw what had attracted Shepherd to her. They had trained in combat, at lower levels, in the holosuite. Their exercises were just as... Eccentric as their son's, but that made them familiar.
Still, Arul didn't think she really understood them... Until she saw them truly fight.
The Klingon Empire had decided to make war on the Cardassian Union, fearing it had been taken over by the Founders of the Dominion. The Federation had resisted. As had the Cardassians. In an act of unilateral spite, Chancellor Gowron had withdrawn from the Khitomer Accords. He had deployed an attack fleet to engage Deep Space Nine. And now he was deploying ground troops onto the station.
Klingons filled the Promenade, wielding bat'leths and disruptors. They were in tight knit squads, rampaging around. They were stronger than humans, by three times. Their battle armor enhanced their strength and endurance, and they were covering every possible approach to them. Looking out for danger, covering all their vulnerabilities.
There was a flash of a blue cloak, and black metal steel. The Klingons at the back died almost instantly, their limbs falling as Mrs. Shepherd struck. The squad leader swung around, and his subordinates opened fire with their disruptors. Mrs. Shepherd sprang like a sehlat, diving through the windows into Quark's bar as she dodged disruptor bolts.
Out from behind holographic camouflage, Master Chief Shepherd opened fire with his heavy phaser rifle. His fellow troops, wearing advanced Combat Suits, opened fire from behind their own holographic defenses. The Klingons fought back heroically, one charging after Mrs. Shepherd into the bar.
He brandished his bat'leth, looking for his foe. He never thought to look above, as the blue clad swordswoman dove like a falcon. She thrust her blade between his vertebrae, right through his primary and secondary hearts. He died with a gasp, and Mrs. Shepherd pulled her blade free. She flicked her blade, dispersing the pink blood.
She saw their faces. Master Chief Shepherd was cool, professional... Yet there was a fire in his eyes. As though he knew everything that was going on, why, and how to deal with it. He had an indepth understanding of his foe and the challenge before him... And relished it.
Mrs. Shepherd for her part had a similar fire in her eyes... One she hid behind a stoic, focused mask. She didn't enjoy killing... But the thrill of the fight burned inside her.
It was clear, then... That these two people... Were most at home in a fight. In the midst of chaos and fire and death, they were utterly at ease.
Arul watched all this from the safety of the Infirmary. Well, relative safety. Already, several Federation and Bajorans had been injured. And despite being in the last month of her pregnancy, she had gone on duty. Doctor Bashir had given up trying to convince her otherwise, as his hands were full.
Arul herself was working on healing the stab wounds and burns on Crewman Ryy. The Bolian was in bad shape, having fought off four Klingons all by himself. He had a punctured lung, and three broken ribs. She had to use special gloves and robes to prevent the acidic body fluids of Bolian anatomy from harming her. She used her medical device to remove the fragments of metal in him, and activated the autoknitter nanites. She increased the flow of artificial blood, as his heartrate was dropping.
It was then that a Klingon smashed through the doors, and roared. He charged right for Arul, maddened with bloodlust.
"RAWWRRRRRRGGHHHHH-!"
Arul shifted into a combat stance Mr. Shepherd had taught her. Coupled with her Vulcan strength, she caught his swinging bat'leth and vaulted him over into the wall behind her.
"GAUUGH-HUrrrrkkk..."
The Klingon fell hard to the deck, gurgling. The impact wasn't enough to kill him, but it had knocked him unconscious. Mostly. She stomped on the back of his head to make sure.
Another Klingon followed in, pausing after seeing his fellow warrior crumple against the bulkhead. Arul turned a deadly stare on him. Apparently it had intimidated another males, but Shepherd had always said it was "hot".
Apparently this young Klingon found it intimidating, as he gulped.
"I am attempting to perform surgery," Arul stated as calmly as she could, "then I will have to heal your comrade. I would appreciate it if you would sit quietly and not interrupt me any more."
Her dead eyed gaze sharpened.
The Klingon very slowly nodded.
"Y-Yes, my lady," he managed, putting down his weapons and sitting quietly. Arul, satisfied, returned to healing Ryy. The sounds of battle kept going on. The young Klingon trembled, before he cleared his throat.
"I-I didn't want to be here... M-My father made me-"
"You could have said no," Arul stated, applying a neural stimulator. "Dishonor is something Klingons of multiple social classes can resolve, regardless of their circumstances."
"It... It meant so much to him," he mumbled.
"What did you want to do?" Arul asked. If he was going to talk, that would make it easier to keep track of his location without having to look up from her work.
"... I dunno... Be an engineer? A doctor? I don't know," the Klingon muttered. "My mother was a doctor... My dad became a warrior. They got divorced because he was more obsessed with honor than anything else. But I really wanted to make him happy... Make him proud..."
Arul finished knitting the arteries. She drained the internal bleeding, as quickly as she safely could. She then pulled out the dermal regenerator, and began to close up the wounds. Ryy was still unconscious. That was probably for the best. Performing surgery on screaming patients was difficult.
"Your father should be proud of you living your best life, and exceeding in whatever you choose. Do you not bring honor to your house by being successful?" Arul asked. The young Klingon looked up, and shook a bit.
"I... It seems so far away now..."
"Such things often do," Arul mused dryly. She finished putting in the final nano-sutures. She then closed her eyes, and shook.
The young Klingon leaned forward, looking concerned.
"Are... Are you all right?" He asked, sounding scared.
Arul took several deep breaths.
"I am fine. I am simply going into labor," she stated.
"YOU'RE WHAT?!" The young Klingon shouted.
"Going into labor," Arul replied, "which means I'm about to have my children. They are twins, and human/Vulcan hybrids. Such labors can be extremely difficult-Would you kindly get Doctor Bashir?"
"ME?! WHY?!" The young Klingon shouted. Arul fought back a wince, and leaned against the biobed. She took deep breaths, trying to control her agony. She was enduring much harder contractions, much closer together now. She could feel her children kicking, anxious and frightened. She tried to calm them, conveying it through her telepathic powers.
They depended on her... For everything... She couldn't let them down... She couldn't let Shepherd down...
"Because... I am in great agony... And it is taking everything I can to maintain control," she managed. She used the dead eyed glare again. "Now."
"Yes-Yes Doctor!" The young Klingon shouted, rushing back further into the infirmary.
A moment later, Mrs. Shepherd crashed in, her sword and clothing covered in pink blood.
"Arul! Arul, are you all right?" She cried. "I saw the Klingon come in but I couldn't-!"
Doctor Bashir came in, holding his phaser on the young Klingon. May Shepherd had her sword on him in a second. The Klingon whimpered. Bashir looked over at Arul in concern.
"Ah! Arul! He told me you were in labor-"
"SHE'S IN LABOR?!" Mrs. Shepherd cried in shock.
"It is no reason to yell, Mother-in-Law," Arul managed, "please help me-"
In a moment, Mrs. Shepherd was by her. She helped Arul up onto the adjacent biobed. She squeezed Arul's hand, and smiled warmly.
"You'll do fine," she said, "you'll be just fine. Also... How did you get that young Klingon to surrender?"
"I intimidated him," Arul stated. Mrs. Shepherd grinned, and gave a thumbs up.
"Now... That's the best way to make friends!"
Meanwhile, in the Delta Quadrant...
Shepherd had been on edge all duty shift, which made the rest of the crew a bit wary. He sat in the mess hall, actually doing paperwork instead of anything weird. He wasn't even reading a manga, or wearing a silly hat.
He'd even turned down the chance to play with the Ocampan children, which had freaked them out. They had run off, some of them crying.
Not that Shepherd had noticed.
He actually got all of his paperwork done fast, and then spent the rest of his shift brooding. Paris finally walked over, curious.
"Hey, Shepherd? You okay?" He asked.
"You seem distressed," Kes said, leaning over.
Shepherd opened his mouth... Then bent over and screamed in agony.
"AUUUUGGGGGHHHHH! FUCK! WHY?! WHAT?! ARRRRGGGGGHHHHH!"
He screamed and cursed all the way to sickbay. He was sweaty and red faced. He thrashed so hard he gave Kes a blackeye, and broke Paris's jaw. The Doctor managed to use his holographic strength to sedate him... But even that wasn't enough to keep him from screaming.
"AARRRGGH! I HATE EVERYTHING! WHY?! GODDAMNIT SHEPHERD, HOW COULD YOU GET ME PREGNANT?! THIS HURTS SOOO MUCH!" Shepherd shrieked.
Kes and Paris watched in shock. Mostly because Kes was still healing Tom.
"Did... He just start screaming in the third person? About being pregnant?" Paris asked. He looked over to Kes. "What's he thinking?"
"Tom! I can't just-!" Kes tried, but Paris shot her a wry look. She sighed. "Oh, fine..."
She concentrated on the wailing Shepherd, then winced.
"Oh wow... He's in so much pain, and rage... And Fear..."
"Why? What's going on?!" Tom asked earnestly. He was too freaked out to take a broken jaw personally. They still had to make the Tom and Shepherd Awesome Playlist Number 2, after all.
"I can answer that," Tuvok stated, stepping into sickbay. Tom and Kes looked over at Tuvok. The tall Vulcan looked slightly... Uncomfortable? Almost sympathetic towards the shrieking Shepherd.
"During childbirth, Vulcans with deep telepathic bonds will feel eachother's pain," Tuvok stated. "Right now, Shepherd's mate is probably in the middle of labor. Shepherd is now experiencing it as though he was her. She is drawing on him for strength."
"Sooo..." Tom tilted his head. "Does that mean that for your children-?"
"Yes," Tuvok stated. "Every. Single. One."
Tom winced deeply.
"I... Have found all new respect for you, Tuvok."
Tuvok shrugged.
"It is expected of all Vulcan fathers and husbands to aid their children and wives. This is why we do not mate frivolously."
"I can see why," Kes murmured, cringing as Shepherd threw a box of tools through the EMH. This prompted the Doctor to bind Shepherd's ankles, wrists, and waist to the biobed with restraints that appeared like magic.
"Mister Shepherd, please calm down!" The Doctor shouted.
"I CAN'T!" Shepherd shouted, tears in his eyes. "ARUL HURTS SO MUCH! SHE'S IN SO MUCH PAIN! SHE'S SCARED AND OUR BABIES ARE SCARED AND FOR SOME REASON I WANNA KILL SOME KLINGONS! FUCK! IT HURTS SO MUCH! HOW CAN SHE ENDURE IT?! GOD SHE'S SO TOUGH! IT JUST KEEPS GETTING WORSE AND WORSE BUT SHE'S STILL FIGHTING! AND I CAN"T DO ANYTHING FOR HER! I'M STUCK ON THIS STUPID FUCKING SHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GALAXY!"
He grit his teeth so hard it looked like he might break them. He shook his head furiously.
"GODDAMNIT! WHY?! I CAN'T DO A DAMN THING FOR HER! FOR THEM! FOR ANYONE! FUCK! SHE HURTS SO MUCH!"
Tuvok was by Shepherd's side in an instant, and shoved the young human man down.
"She is not fighting alone," Tuvok stated calmly, "focus. If you lose your mind, you will make things worse for her. You must be in control... For her sake, and for your children's sake. They are not fighting alone. Focus..."
Shepherd took deep breaths. He shut his eyes, breathing in, and breathing out. Slowly, but surely, he was able to get himself back under control, Tuvok by his side. It took him several minutes, but he was able to open his eyes again. Just in time to see Captain Janeway standing by his bed with Tuvok.
"I know the situation," Janeway said quietly, before Shepherd could open his mouth. "You're confined to quarters until this is over. Kes? Tuvok? Tom? Make sure he gets there."
"It... It'll be fine, Captain," Shepherd said, forcing a smile, "I'm not... In the mood to goof off... Right now..."
Janeway nodded.
"You'd better not," she stated. She shook her head. "Tuvok, you should-"
Shepherd managed to get to his feet... Shakily... But he stayed up. He trembled, and gave a thumbs up.
"I'm... Okay... To walk...!"
"You most certainly are not," the Doctor stated. Janeway sighed.
"They'll still escort you," Janeway stated. "Doctor? You can keep a medical monitor on him, but if he says he can walk... Let's see if he can."
The EMH, unhappily, still stuck a medical monitor neck thingy onto Shepherd. Shepherd kept taking deep breaths, over and over. He stood up straight.
Shepherd took one step. And another. And another.
"See... It's because... If Arul is going through this... I gotta... Be strong... For her..." Shepherd said proudly.
"That is not what I meant," Tuvok stated. "You should sit down and meditate-"
"NOPE! CAN'T SIT STILL!" Shepherd shouted. "GOTTA KEEP MY SWEETIE STRONG!"
He took off in a run, going around in a circle in the center of the sickbay.
"What are you doing?!" Doctor shouted at him.
"GONNA JOG AROUND THE SHIP! WORK OUT! MAYBE SHOOT SOMETHING!" Shepherd shouted. "ANYTHING TO KEEP MY HONEY BUNNY'S MIND OFF HER PAIN AND FEAR!"
"That is also not what I said," Tuvok pointed out, as Shepherd dashed out the doors. Janeway sighed and rubbed her forehead.
"We will take care of him, Captain!" Kes cried, running after Shepherd. Tom followed.
"One day. Couldn't I get just one day where I am bored out of my skull and nothing happens? Why couldn't I get that?"
"You would be unlikely to appreciate it," Tuvok observed, before he took off after the screaming Shepherd as well.
TO BE CONTINUED...
A brief omake by FaxModem1
Enterprise-D, 2367
Enterprise Gymnasium
Mrs. Shepherd watched as her son practiced his foot work. The ruins of Vegas in the 21st century and a 24th century state of the art starship were practically night and day in living conditions, but some things still held true. True footing, strong legs, developed flexibility, conservation of energy when needed. All of these were necessary for melee combat. And while her son was athletic, he was always trying to be one step of ship's security with his many pranks not to be, he wasn't yet ready to be a swordsman. She was just glad the replicators were programmed to focus on nutrition over taste. Too many people in her own time had taken physical readiness via nutrition and exercise as something to not concern themselves with, and paid for it dearly as society fell. She loved her son, but she wanted to make sure he had the habits he needed when he didn't have replicators taking care of his nutrition for him at all times.
To do that, she focused on what all beginners need. She continued to develop his footwork.
"Keep your legs in a straight line. One behind the other. You must have good balance if you want to use the blade."
Young Junior was squatted, moving from one end of the gym to the other, and back again, constantly engaging the muscles in his thighs. She chose to ignore the moans of pain he made as his muscles complied.
"Mom, why do I have do this? I'm not going into fencing, it's sword fighting. If this is ever a real fight, I won't be fighting for points."
"Stop. Let's do a practice match."
She tossed him a practice sword, her own practice sword in her other hand. He caught it, overextending himself. She poked him with her offhand sword easily.
"We're not fighting for points, why do you come within reach of your enemy and allow yourself to be stabbed? Remember, everything I teach you is for a reason. Even if things seem silly at the time. Doing proper legwork trains your body to fight that way even when your mind doesn't remember to."
Her son sighed, and nodded, backing off and getting ready. She observed his stance. He was out of reach, but his feet were unbalanced. This meant that he needed a more pertinent reminder of why she was teaching him. She charged at him, making sure to keep her body small so it presented as small a target as possible when she approached. She stabbed several times as a feint, which he dodged, or partially blocked with his own sword, which led her to trip his legs with her blade. Junior fell down on the mat, no real injury except to his pride.
"Good footwork reduces the chances your opponent can hit you, and gives you more chances to hit them. You were too focused on my attack to not think about what I would do after, and in no position to escape the flurry of blows I was giving to distract you. You also need to work on better defense. Let me show you."
She ran him through repeated drills, of how to hold his weapon, how to walk, how to observe, how to thrust, the best grip for holding the weapon. Each time he failed, she made him do push ups, more drills back and forth down the gym, to run laps, or poked him with her sword when she saw a weakness, whichever she thought would better reinforce the lesson. They went on for hours, making sure that what needed to be drilled into his head grew there. Her son was becoming exhausted, which was good, it would mean less chance for mischief. She squashed the maternal thought process and returned to being his teacher.
She continued unabated, "Faster, move faster. I want to see you make this lap five seconds faster. Don't dawdle." Her voice was stern, seeming to be more from the 21st century than the 24th.
The computer chimed with a reminder, "The time is 1745 hours."
"Ah, your father is nearly done with his shift, I think I'll make tuna casserole tonight. Come on, son, let's hurry to our quarters so that we can shower and change for dinner."
Her entire body, aura, and characteristics had changed. She was now the loving wife and mother, only for some reason carrying some practice swords and in sport training clothes. Young Shepherd Jr barely recognized the woman who he had been receiving the drills and spars from only moments ago. Shepherd fell over and collapsed onto the mat, his body and clothing covered in sweat from all the physical exertion, panting over and over from the afternoon's workout.
"Be...right...there. Just...have to...breathe." He said, his words coming between heavy gasps of air.
"You did good work today. Tomorrow we'll do some more basic exercises." She noted his lack of response aside from the intaking of air as he laid down on the gym floor.
"Okay, well just don't be late for dinner." She said as she leaned down to kiss him on the forehead and left him there. Her demeanor being nothing but sweetness and love. Shepherd heard the automatic doors of the gymnasium opening and closing as she left.
Oxygen slowly returned to his body. He was sore all over from his muscles being stretched and because of several impacts with his mother's practice sword. After several breaths, Shepherd Jr stood up. Now that he was sure he wasn't dying, he stood up and thought about the woman who had changed completely within the span of seconds. His mother, most of the time, was as civilized, loving, and polite as the next person on board the Enterprise. But when it called for it, she still retained some of her old life. He wondered if that was part of him as well. He wondered if that was part of everyone.
He thought about Ortiz, the medic who had died less than a year ago saving his life. The officer who had been all business. He had pranked Ortiz before, and the medic had taken it on the chin so many times, had been a person who laughed at everything, was always laughing at his mischief. There was a completely different person the day the Borg came. His father, in contrast, was mostly the same person on and off the clock. His mother though, she wasn't the same. He connected the dots. Everyone who dealt with combat was like that to some extent, being a person that they had to be in the moment, and being who they had to be when they had to. Some were who they had to be by choice, some by who they were inside, and others because they had no other choice if they wanted to survive. He had never thought about his parents' past life in great detail before. But when his mom saved his life against the Borg, she had been someone else. Similar to the person he saw in gym today. It was to a much lesser degree, but it wasn't the woman who made casseroles and talked with them at dinner about their day.
His mom wanted to be a housewife, someone who cooked dinner and raise her family. But sometimes, she had to be what was needed. It was a revelation to see that his mom was a different person based on the occasion.
Shepherd Jr stood up. "Computer, time."
"The time is 1751."
"Computer, remind me when it's 1830."
"Acknowledged."
He stood next to the wall. He prepared his body, and practiced his footwork. If his parents could be who they needed to be when the time called for it, so could he.