Way Down We Go

Source Episodes: VOY 5x15/16 Dark Frontier, DS9 7x25 What You Leave Behind


2404

The alarm sounded in the middle of the night.

Although every resident of Deep Space Nine had been drilled hundreds of times on how to respond to that particular klaxon, it was still jarring. As I sat up in bed, it took a bleary-headed moment for its meaning to register.

The barrier between us and the Borg had been breached.

I couldn't help but wonder if Tom and B'Elanna were, in the very same moment, waking to that alarm on Bajor. How long would the government wait to send the warning out to civilian homes? I knew they wouldn't evacuate until receiving confirmation from Deep Space Nine, but this wasn't an evacuation order.

Only twice had I ever actually been at our home in the hill country west of Ashalla during a barrier drill. The first was five years before, when we bought the house. All six of us—B'Elanna, Tom, Miral, me, Harry, and Peldara—had to run a drill as part of the legal process to own a home on Bajor. The second was about a year ago, station time, when Harry and I took shore leave and spent two weeks living in a house that was, for all intents and purposes, Tom and B'Elanna's home.

All of this is what ran through my head as I raced around my empty quarters, heart pounding in double-time with the klaxon's wail. I thought of Miral waking up in guest quarters on the station, and of Peldara only a sector away with Chakotay and Enterprise-G. I thought of Kasidy, our Terran neighbor on Bajor, living all alone in a beautiful home that had been designed to surround a family. I thought of Harry and his little scout ship bravely watching the barrier, and I wondered if he was already dead or assimilated.

Never had I gotten into uniform as quickly as I did that night.


Ops was a madhouse.

I wasn't entirely sure where to stand once I stepped off the lift, so I tucked myself out of the way to await further instructions. I didn't have a station in the operations center of Deep Space Nine. I had an office, a meeting room to brief my counselors and interns, and a research lab that I shared with Julian, all of which were on level two of the promenade. Normally I had no reason to venture up to ops, but the threat of Borg invasion made my expertise vital.

Admiral Kira barked orders at anxious gamma-shift officers, seeming for all the world like she was fearless, but I knew better. She was soon joined by Admiral Janeway and Miral, who slipped right into the chaos with ease. They fielded comms from Federation-allied ships who were coming to defend our barrier while Kira oversaw the mobilization of Starfleet forces that were stationed near Bajoran space.

A moment later, Julian was beside me. He never said a word, which was unusual for him, but he did squeeze my shoulder when a report came from Harry's ship. They were alive.

Then a shuttle came through the barrier.

It was small, old, and unimposing. Hundreds of Borg ships waited on the other side of the barrier breach, but none attempted to cross over.

"I need information on that shuttle," Kira said.

"It's Federation," answered a Lieutenant at a sensor control station, "a type-six shuttlecraft—"

"That's ancient," I murmured.

"You'd think the Borg might have better technology than a shuttle from the 2360's," Julian mumbled back.

"—one lifesign," continued the lieutenant. He looked up with wide eyes. "Terran."

"Admiral," called the officer manning communications, "the shuttle is sending out a general comm."

"On screen."

When the viewscreen flickered to life, I thought for a moment that I had fallen into a nightmare haunted by the ghost of my guilty conscience. Her rectangular face was framed by golden-blonde hair and wrapped in fair skin with a healthy pink undertone. Her blue-green eyes were as sharp as I remembered them to be, and a thin sliver of metal arched over her left brow.

"My name is Annika Hansen," she said. "I was liberated from the collective many years ago, and I served on the USS Voyager under Captain Kathryn Janeway's command. I defected to assist in Unimatrix Zero's war against the Borg, but was ultimately captured and held in stasis. They have sent me across the barrier, alone and unarmed, in order to negotiate terms with the Federation and its allies for a peaceful solution that will serve all our interests. I request safe passage to Deep Space Nine for the purpose of this meeting. Please respond."

She repeated the message once more, then the image disappeared.

Kathryn's eyes met mine, and I had no doubt that the shock in her face was a mirror of my own. Annika looked as if she hadn't aged much at all since the last time we saw her nearly three decades before. Had the J-25 collective enhanced her somehow in order to use her against us? She didn't look or sound like a drone, but everything about the series of events was wrong for what I knew of the Borg. It had to be a trap.

Except the Borg didn't set traps.

My mind was on the lookout for danger, and I could feel my body grow even more tense in response. I wanted to believe in something more hopeful. Annika was finally coming home, and I should have been overjoyed to see her. Yet her arrival felt wrong in some unexplainable way. Deep within my pagh, I knew this was the endgame. We were about to be checkmated.

And I couldn't shake the sense that it was ultimately my fault.


Within fifty-six hours of Annika's arrival, we managed to call quite the gathering at Deep Space Nine. The wardroom was abnormally crowded, with extra seats added to the long table at its center. When Admiral Kira strode in to take her place at the head of the table, only two chairs remained empty.

Kathryn sat immediately to Kira's right, followed by Julian and myself. B'Elanna was beside me, being that she was the Federation ambassador to Qo'nos. Next to her was General Worf of the Klingon Defense Force—a top advisor to Chancellor Martok—and his wife Ba'el, the Klingon ambassador to the Romulan Republic. The seat at the foot of the table was empty, as was the seat beside it. Across from General Worf sat Senator Vorath of the Romulan Republic, followed by Elim Garak and Iliana Ghemor. Finally, to Kira's left, were Ambassador Odo and Prime Minister Ro Laren.

At Kira's signal, the doors on the far end of the wardroom slid open. Chakotay was the first to step inside, tall and muscular in his command-red uniform, thick silver hair cut short as always. Following behind him was Annika, perfectly-postured and painfully tense inside of her loose-fitting civilian clothes, looking so very out of place among the aged crowd. Last to enter were two of the station's security guards, who took their posts at either side of the door.

As Chakotay approached the table, I snuck a quick glance at Kathryn. It wasn't terribly subtle, but she didn't seem to notice. For the first time since her arrival on the station, I saw her gravitas falter at the sight of her ex-husband and former first officer.

His deep brown eyes met hers, gentle and perceptive, yet he did not smile. "Admiral," he said, dipping his head.

"Captain," she replied.

B'Elanna shifted in her seat.

Ever the gentleman, Chakotay pulled back the chair at the end of the table for Annika before taking his own seat beside her. Only then did he finally meet my gaze, and his lips twitched upward.

I let out a breath and smiled back.

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Miss Hansen," Kira said.

Annika inclined her head. "Thank you, Admiral. I am sorry that my visit must occur under such unpleasant circumstances."

"So am I. You said that you were captured by the Borg and put into stasis."

"That is correct."

"When were you captured?"

"Stardate 58512."

"So you have been in stasis for the last twenty-three years?"

"By Terran standards, yes."

Kira folded her hands on the table. "Before we get into any negotiating, I think we'd all like some reassurance that this isn't a deception. Based on my own experience, as well as the extensive research Doctors Eelo and Bashir have done on Borg psychology and neurology, I have to say that I doubt your claims of a Borg collective willing to negotiate terms for peace. The Borg have never negotiated with anyone before—not that we're aware of. Why now?"

"Your concerns are valid," Annika said. "I, too, was surprised upon being awakened from stasis. When I was captured by the Borg, I expected assimilation or destruction, not conversation. I cannot offer you any absolute certainty beyond the fact that I am here, I am an individual, and the offer I have brought may be the only thing that prevents the Borg from assimilating the Federation."

"That's asking a lot of trust from us that neither you nor the Borg have earned," Minister Ro said.

"Perhaps we should hear the terms first before we begin passing judgements," Garak suggested.

"I agree," said Kathryn. "What exactly does the queen want?"

"You will be given one month to evacuate all personnel and civilians, after which you will surrender the Bajoran system, as well as the space surrounding both termini of the Bajoran Wormhole, to the Borg. This station must be left in tact for the Borg to assimilate. You will also turn over all Borg-centric research, as well as all Borg components that you have collected and stored. Finally—" She hesitated, her face tensing as if she were in pain. "—you will surrender Commander Eelo Talia into the custody of the Borg."

B'Elanna's body went rigid. "What!?"

"Absolutely not," Chakotay said.

"Interesting," Garak said. "Very interesting, indeed. And what is it that the Borg are offering in exchange for all of this?"

"Their word that they will not invade any other sectors belonging to the United Federation of Planets or its current allies."

"The Borg are without honor," General Worf insisted. "We cannot simply accept their word."

"What choice do we have?" Iliana asked. "If we say no, they'll just invade us anyway."

"You would rather betray one of your own to save yourself?" Ba'el asked.

Iliana scoffed. "No offense to Talia, but she is not 'one of my own.' Besides, what's that thing Vulcans say? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?"

"Or the one," Senator Vorath added. "And I believe it was one half-Vulcan who said that, as opposed to being a proverb common to the entire species."

"The point is," Iliana said forcefully, "if one person has to be sacrificed for the greater good, I'm okay with that."

"It won't be just one person," Ro pointed out. "There are many Bajorans who won't be willing to evacuate."

Iliana shrugged. "That's on them, not the rest of us."

"Bajor is our home. We've been there since before your species had a prefrontal cortex. As for the wormhole, it is our only connection to the Prophets. Can't you understand why that might be something worth fighting for?"

"It's a planet, Minister. Pick up your shit and go find a new one."

Ro crossed her arms. "Funny, that sounds a lot like what your people told the Romulans and Remans after you helped blow up the Hobus star."

Vorath's eyebrows twitched as he shifted his gaze from Ro to Iliana.

"Enough," Kira snapped. "We won't get anywhere going at each other's throats."

"This is outrageous," Worf said. "I would rather face the Borg in battle than betray a comrade and run like a coward. There is no honor in that."

"Hear, hear," B'Elanna said.

Odo spoke next. "I'm surprised no one is curious as to why the Borg would specifically want Commander Eelo."

Iliana smirked. "Well, if that's the discussion we're going to have, then I think we're missing two very important people."

"And who might that be?"

"Megan and Jennifer Delaney."

I had to stifle a laugh. For all that Iliana had changed over the years, her grudge against the Delaney sisters hadn't changed at all.

Vorath tilted his head. "I fail to see the benefit of bringing a Starfleet field officer and her retired sister into this conversation."

Annika cut in. "Miss Ghemor is correct in that the officers in question did play a significant role in events leading to our current situation, but so have others who are now absent."

B'Elanna leaned forward. "What's that supposed to mean? What role did they play? And who else was involved?"

Annika opened her mouth to speak, but Kathryn cut her off. "It's not important. Annika, are you currently linked to the hive mind?"

"Yes, but not in the same way most drones are. Prior to my liberation from the collective, as you know, I was an administrative drone, which required a different neurological approach. Due to genetic modifications during my development in a Borg maturation chamber, I am currently able to keep my own thoughts separate from the collective. If I wish to access or communicate with the hive mind, I have that ability. However, I am not compelled by the Borg to do so."

"Still, I would feel much more comfortable if you stepped out for a few moments so that we could discuss this matter amongst ourselves. I'm sure you can understand."

Annika nodded. "Of course, Admiral." With that, she stood and exited the room, both security officers following after her.

Garak wasted no time. "I must say, Admiral Janeway, you did put a stop to that particular side of the discussion quite abruptly. It makes me wonder what exactly the Federation and its intelligence agents know about our current predicament that they are not sharing with their allies."

Every eye in the room went to Kathryn. She lifted her chin, peering down her nose at him. "I see no reason to dwell on the past. We cannot change it. We can, however, make a choice here and now to deal with what is in front of us, which is exactly what we are here to do."

A few other voices rose in either support or opposition, but they suddenly seemed to fade into the background. I closed my eyes, mind growing murky as if it was submerged in lakewater. Kathryn's words echoed in my brain. We cannot change the past.

Then a deep male voice that seemed distantly familiar spoke "They can't, but we can."

"Who are you?" I asked, looking around but only perceiving hazy blue light.

"You already know the answer to that."

"The Prophet who guided me to Voyager," I said. "But you're not like the other Prophets, are you?"

Through the haze, a dark figure appeared. He was little more than a silhouette at first, but as he drew near I could pick out features that I had seen in Starfleet files, Bajoran icons, and the holoimages scattered about my neighbor Kasidy's home. He was Terran, with dark eyes, brown skin, a bald head, a black goatee, and a Starfleet command uniform that had been out of circulation for decades. I knew his name was Captain Benjamin Sisko, former commander of Deep Space Nine.

Still I fell to my knees. "Emissary."

With a warm hand beneath my chin, he guided me back to my feet. "The path you walk is not linear, Eelo. Death is before you, but hope lies behind you."

I frowned. "You mean I have to go back in time to fix this?"

"Who are you?"

Without thinking, the old answer Marnah had drilled into me as a child burst from my lips. "I am Eelo Talia of Kendra, house of the guiding star of Bajor."

"Do you walk the path of the Prophets?"

Like a child caught in a lie, a strong sense of guilt filled my chest. "No," I murmured, "I don't"

"I disagree," Sisko said. "Who are you?"

Although I was tempted to ask the Emissary what he wanted me to say, I chose instead to give my own answer. "Commander Eelo Talia, a research psychologist in the service of Federation Starfleet."

"Who else are you?"

"Wife to Harry, partner to Tom and B'Elanna, mother to Peldara and Miral, child of Earth and Bajor."

"Who else?"

"Former Maquis rebel. Former officer aboard the USS Voyager. Explorer. Survivor." I paused, withholding the more brutal and honest words I had long held close to my pagh.

"Speak them," the Emissary said.

I hung my head. "Danger. Killer. Weapon. Failure. Unworthy. Monster."

"Name that which you hold most against yourself."

Annika's strong jaw, blonde hair, and blue-green eyes wafted to the surface of my thoughts. There were any number of ways that I could have intervened to save her and, ultimately, save us all. If Marnah had been honest with me about what I truly was—or if I had figured it out sooner—I could have stopped this whole war and kept Annika from acting too quickly. I knew it wasn't entirely fair to hold myself so completely accountable, but that did nothing to alleviate the guilt—or worse, my deep sense of shame.

"Name it," he prodded.

"Losing Annika on that mission, abandoning her to the Borg. Not stopping her, and failing to fulfill my purpose."

"The path of the Prophets is not always clear. Sometimes you have to be the one to clear it. Your path is not linear. You're not a prisoner to fate. Seek your redemption with forgiveness for yourself, and you will find the path to peace."

From somewhere else, a slender hand grabbed my own. Then a larger hand squeezed my shoulder and shook me gently.

"Talia."

My eyes snapped open, bringing the wardroom sharply into focus. B'Elanna was holding tightly to my hand while Julian was shaking me out of my stupor and calling my name. I looked from one to the other, their worried eyes seeking to understand what was happening to me.

Julian turned to Kira. "Admiral, I'd like a recess so I can examine Commander Eelo in the infirmary."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "But, I would like to be dismissed from these proceedings."

"For what reason?" Kira asked.

"I have to seek the Prophets. It's our only option."

Across the room, I heard Iliana scoff. "Oh for fuck's sake."

"The Prophets haven't spoken to anyone since the Emissary left us," Ro said. "What makes you think they'll listen to you now?"

"Talia," Chakotay said, his voice gentle, "what did you see?"

"The Prophet who spoke to us when we were in the Nekrit Expanse with Riley's co-op, and who freed Annika from the collective. Tay, it's the Emissary. He was the one with us on Voyager."

"Captain Sisko?" Kira asked. When I turned, her eyes were wide.

I nodded. "Yes, Captain Sisko."

"What did he say?"

I looked into Kira's brown eyes—eyes that had long looked upon the wormhole with unflinching faith. "It's not linear."

That was all she needed to know. "Sona a'Bentel," she said with a nod, dismissing me.

Glancing at B'Elanna, I gave her hand one last squeeze before letting it go. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

She frowned. "For what?"

For what the Borg would do to the Federation once they realized where I've gone. But I kept the words to myself. What could I say? Any hint at what I was about to do, and she would try to stop me. Considering how important I apparently was to the Borg, most everyone in the room might try to stop me.

No, I couldn't explain, nor could I take the time to say goodbye to anyone. I simply shook my head and whispered, "For this." Then, ignoring every question and protest from others at the table, I stood and turned my back on them all, making my way instead for the nearest runabout.

The Borg would take the galaxy no matter what. General Worf was right—no way would they keep their word indefinitely. But if I was indeed so valuable to them as to induce such odd and desperate behavior, then I needed to ensure they could never get their tubules into me. The wormhole was the only place I knew that would be safe.

So I would walk with the Prophets, just as the Emissary had.