CHAPTER FIVE

"I'm sorry, Kathryn, but there simply is no way around this. I must relieve you of command until you show definite signs of improvement."

Captain Kathryn Janeway forced a sigh as she sat on one of the bio-beds in Sickbay. "I still think this is completely unnecessary, and somewhat primitive. You want to confine me to Sickbay? Why not simply perform treatments while I retain my command?"

"Starfleet Directive 44 specifies that if the captain or other officer is declared unfit for his or her position by the Chief Medical Officer, the CMO may remove the Captain from active service until the point at which the CMO declares the Captain fit for service. It is therefore entirely within my right as the acting Chief Medical Officer of Voyager to remove you from active duty for the time being."

"And who made you the acting Chief Medical Officer?"

"You did, Captain."

"Right. If that's how you want to play this, effective immediately I am revoking your status as Chief Medical Officer."

"Unfortunately, Captain," a voice from behind said and Janeway spun about to face Tuvok, "the CMO's decision has already been logged in the computer. You no longer have that authority."

Janeway threw her hands up in the air before letting them drop back to her side. "Now what? You're in on this conspiracy as well? I thought you were the one person I could always trust."

"As did I, Captain. However, your decisions are becoming increasingly illogical. I strongly suggest you follow the doctor's orders and get plenty of bed rest."

"I am also restricting your caffeine intake," the Doctor remarked as he adjusted a hypospray. "Over the next week, I will allow you limited access to caffeine, as well as analgesics to counteract the effects of withdrawal."

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. . .

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"Acting Captain's Log, Stardate 52579.9." Chakotay turned and cleared his throat before continuing. "This entry marks the point at which I assume temporary command of the USS Voyager. Relieving Captain Kathryn Janeway was a hard decision for Tuvok, the Doctor and myself, but one that had to be made. We have reversed our course, and are currently five hours from the Outbound Flight at our present speed of Warp 8. I am of high hope that we can resume negotiations and come to a reasonable agreement."

He shut off the recorder, and glanced around the bridge. Directly in front of him, Lieutenant Tom Paris was at his usual position at the helm. Seven of Nine was back in Astrometrics, and other ensigns filled out the rest of the Bridge. Tuvok was currently conducting a holodeck training simulation for his Hazard Team, and Neelix... well, Chakotay could not have possibly cared less as to the whereabouts of the Talaxian.

Slowly, he dozed off, and by the time Voyager arrived at its destination he was engaged in a dream about how one of Neelix's concoctions took control of Seven of Nine's central nervous system and decided to remove Janeway from command for no particular reason.

When an ensign tapped him on the shoulder to wake him up, he at first thought that the concoction had broken out of Seven, and was attacking him. So it was that when he finally woke up, several supernumeraries had their phasers trained on him, and the ensign that had attempted to awaken him was nursing an eye that had gone a lovely deep shade of violet.

"Um... did I hit you?" he asked the injured ensign, who nodded in reply.

He looked down at his hands. "Sorry. I was having a nightmare about Neelix's cooking..."

The remark broke the tension, as both the ensign and the security personnel cracked up.

"Well, Sir, what I was trying to tell you was that we're only a few minutes away from Outbound Flight."

Now fully awake, Chakotay nodded. "Hail them and let them know we'd like to meet with Master C'baoth again."

"Yes, Sir."

Chakotay paused in thought. "Now, where's Tuvok?"

"Still in the Holodeck, sir."

"All right," he said, pausing at the comm. "Tell Paris, Tuvok, and Seven to meet me in the transporter room," he ordered the ensign at the station. Then, he turned and strode to the turbolift.

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. . .

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When Chakotay materialized in D-One's hangar bay along with the others, he hadn't quite known what to expect. Seven had, of course, told him that the crew was mostly human. However, the thin line between human and humanoid was often quite blurred (especially in the case of B'Elanna) and so for a crew that was supposed to have travelled from another galaxy halfway across the universe, he was half expecting to see at least some sort of forehead ridge, different skin pigmentation, strange eye structure, or some other random mutation.

Instead, the small group that was waiting for him in the hangar bay of the Dreadnaught could have fit right in anywhere on Earth, or the Federation for that matter, without anyone so much as batting an eye.

"Commander Chakotay, correct?" a tall man with flowing gray hair and beard asked as he stepped forward and extended a hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth, administrator of the Outbound Flight Project."

He took the hand and shook it. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," C'baoth replied. "I'm sorry to hear what happened to your Captain. It must be quite a burden to keep a ship such as Voyager operating for as long as you have been without support."

"Yes, it certainly is," Chakotay found himself agreeing. You have no idea, he mentally added.

C'baoth turned partway around to gesture toward the doorway at the back of the hangar bay. "Well, I suppose you'd like to get started. Please, follow me to the conference room."

After a short walk through the hallways and a turbolift ride, they entered the conference room where several more people came to their feet around the table. C'baoth waved an open hand at the nearest one in uniform, who was quite a bit shorter than Chakotay and had streaks of gray in his otherwise black hair. "Commander, this is Captain Jonas Avin."

"I take it you're captain of this ship?" Chakotay asked as he leaned over to shake the Captain's hand.

"Yes," Avin replied. "Actually, while the entire Outbound Flight can be controlled from D-One, each Dreadnaught has its own commander."

"I see," Chakotay replied, still not fully understanding.

The last person at the table, however, would be difficult to describe as even remotely humanoid except in the sense that it was bipedal and had two arms. The arms themselves ended in flipper-hands, and the creature's head was an ovoid shape with two large eyes that appeared to freely swivel on either side. Its skin coloration was generally salmon mixed with mottled patches of olive green, and had a wet shimmer. Chakotay couldn't help but feel that the creature would be more at home in water than on a starship.

"And this is Master Hkalle, our Jedi healer and head doctor," C'baoth finished.

Chakotay awkwardly reached out to shake the alien's flipper, which felt slightly cold and clammy. "You're from the same galaxy?" he asked.

"Yes," Hkalle replied in a voice as rough as a gravel crusher. "To answer the question I know you are thinking, my homeworld is a watery planet called Dac."

"I see," Chakotay replied. "And being aboard a starship like this doesn't bother you?"

The tendrils that hung below Hkalle's mouth waved slightly. "When we leave the water, we must either stay in humid environments, or moisten ourselves regularly. If we do not, it can become painful. My robes contain a moistening device so I may focus on other tasks."

Chakotay nodded.

"Now, Commander Chakotay, what have you come here to discuss with us?" C'baoth boomed.

Slightly taken aback by the sudden change in tone, Chakotay found it hard to remember what he was planning on saying. "Um... well, as Captain Janeway may have already told you, we have been stranded in this quadrant for slightly over five years now with no clear way home." He paused to clear his thoughts. "I understand that your faster than light drive is considerably more efficient than ours, and that you had expressed interest in towing us home in exchange for permission to set up a colony. Is that correct?"

C'baoth inclined his head. "Go on."

"Well," Chakotay searched for the appropriate term, "I would like to apologize for Janeway's abrupt departure, and while none of us have the authority to promise you a world to use for a colony, we will vouch for your character in front of the Federation Senate when you petition them."

"But we only just met," C'baoth rhetorically remarked. "How can you be so sure of our character?"

Chakotay looked directly across the table at the Jedi. "Master C'baoth, before we were pulled into this part of the galaxy, I was the captain of a ship involved in a resistance against an oppressive government near the Federation. While acting in that capacity, I was forced to make many hard decisions that would determine the fate of hundreds of people close to me. While I know that we are all fallible, I believe that I am at least a decent judge of character, and I have seen nothing from you or your crew to indicate a lack of sincerity."

C'baoth nodded. "Pardon me for playing the devil's advocate, but given your experiences, how is it that you wound up second in command to Captain Janeway?"

Chakotay let out a nervous, stifled laugh. "Sometimes I ask myself the same question. When my ship arrived in this quadrant, it was heavily damaged and we had lost many of our crew. Voyager was sent to look for us and arrived in the same condition. We were attacked soon after by a local spacefaring race, and I made a decision to sacrifice my ship to give Voyager a fighting chance. Captain Janeway decided to accept us as members of her crew, and we've been fighting to get home ever since."

C'baoth pulled out a datapad and passed it across the table to Chakotay. "This is the draft of the contract I presented to Captain Janeway. Read through it, and if you have any issues please feel free to bring them up."

Chakotay handed the datapad over to Tuvok. "We thought that most of it was agreeable the last time, but I am concerned about the blood tests that Captain Janeway mentioned. Why are you asking us for blood samples?"

"We are Jedi," C'baoth replied, gesturing toward Hkalle, Dellen, Lorana, and the other robed figures in the room. "The Jedi Order goes back for many tens of thousands of years, to a time before the founding of the Republic. Originally the Bendu Monks, as we were known then, were a monastic order that debated the morals of society. Over time, we became aware of something called the Force, a mystical energy field that surrounds and binds everything in the universe. To those of us that are called to be Jedi, the Force flows through us and grants us powers only dreamed of by ordinary mortals. This power comes at a price, however; we are entrusted to be the guardians of the Republic, and the untold quintillions of sentients within it."

Chakotay frowned. "I can understand that, but the blood tests?"

C'baoth coughed irritably. "I was getting to that. We discovered that there are certain markers in the blood of most humanoids that indicate who are more likely to be touched by the Force. As part of the Outbound Flight's mission, we must determine if these markers are present in life outside our galaxy."

"And if they are?" Chakotay asked.

"Then we will offer anyone with the potential the chance to be trained in the Jedi ways."

Chakotay leaned back in the chair and placed a hand on his chin. After considering the implications for nearly a minute, he leaned forward again. "We cannot provide you the blood samples you requested. However, you have my permission to perform testing on an individual basis, after obtaining full written consent from the crew members. I must also stress that per Federation laws, any blood samples taken cannot be used for genetic modification."

"That is more than agreeable," C'baoth agreed, taking his own datapad and making the changes necessary. "Is there anything else?"

Chakotay glanced over at Tuvok. "What do you think?"

"I think the contract is very well-written and comprehensive," the Vulcan stated. "We will not be violating any Starfleet protocols if we sign this."

He let out a deep breath. "One last question. How do we sign?"

C'baoth slid a stylus across the table. "Scroll down and mark at the bottom of the document."

Chakotay and Tuvok did so before passing the datapad across the table again, after which C'baoth and Captain Avin signed it in the same manner.

C'baoth stood up and extended his arm to Chakotay. "Congratulations. I believe we've both taken a step on the path to friendship for both the Republic and Federation." He turned to Captain Avin. "Captain, please call in the engineers. We should get started immediately."

"Chief Engineer B'Elanna can stay here to discuss the logistics with them," Chakotay suggested.

"Of course. Meanwhile, would you and your other crew members like to have a tour of the Outbound Flight?"

"Certainly," Chakotay replied.

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. . .

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Kathryn Janeway drummed her fingers restlessly on the side of her biobed. Being confined to sickbay was simply so... maddening.

She drew a LCARS console closer to herself, and looked it over. As she did so, she remembered that even the famed Captain James T. Kirk had often resorted to underhanded tactics in certain situations.

Several taps of the console brought her out of the Sickbay menu and into the ship's main menu.

One time, when Kirk was in training at the Academy, he was presented with a test. Nobody before had beaten it, as it was designed to be unbeatable.

She accessed the crew roster, and proceeded to scan it.

But he wouldn't let that stop him. He reprogrammed it and made it winnable, and thus passed the test. Only afterward did they notice what had happened.

Perfect, she thought to herself as she noticed one of the ensigns' entries. Janeway was about to access it, but then she stopped herself and casually looked at her own profile.

KATHRYN JANEWAY

2338-PRESENT

GRADUATED STARFLEET ACADEMY, MAY 2363. MAJORED IN SPACIAL PHYSICS. PROMOTED TO RANK OF ENSIGN, JANUARY 2364. ASSIGNED AS SCIENCE OFFICER TO USS AL-BATANI UNDER CAPTAIN RICHARD PARIS. TRANSFERRED TO . . .

She scrolled down the display, knowing perfectly well of her own history.

PROMOTED TO CAPTAIN, DECEMBER 2368. ASSIGNED COMMAND OF INTREPID-CLASS USS VOYAGER. TEMPORARILY RELIEVED OF COMMAND, JUNE 2375 BY ORDERS OF CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER.

CURRENT STATUS: PENDING FURTHER EVALUATION

Janeway frowned at the display. She had already completed several batteries of psychological tests; what could this mean?

She shut the LCARS terminal off, shoved it away, and decided to go to sleep. Maybe things would sort themselves out.

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. . .

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Several hours after the meeting aboard D-One, B'Elanna found herself leading a team of the Outbound Flight engineers through Voyager's engineering section. They stopped in front of the warp core, where the mostly human engineers looked up at with shock and astonishment written across their faces.

"That's a M-AM reactor?" one of them asked.

"Yes," B'Elanna replied. "Deuterium and anti-deuterium."

The chief engineer of D-One, Lieutenant Derek, scratched his head in thought. "Looks dangerous," he finally remarked. "What kind of containment measures do you have in place?"

"The reactions themselves are magnetically confined," B'Elanna replied. "The core itself has an eject mechanism should the reaction become unstable."

"And how do you harness the power from it?" one of the other engineers asked.

B'Elanna pointed to the glowing, transparent plasma conduits that came from the side of the reactor. "Plasma from the reaction is sent through those conduits to the warp nacelles and other critical systems on the ship."

"They look kind of fragile," Derek remarked. "Why not just convert the heat of the plasma to electricity?"

She shrugged. "The efficiency's not high enough to power the warp drive. Cochrane's first warp drive was electrically powered by an old-fashioned nuclear fission reactor, but it was barely able to pass lightspeed. We're able to achieve much faster velocities this way."

"Right, but the conduits are all transparent, so all that light they're emitting is going to waste." Derek replied.

"Look, I didn't design the system, OK?" B'Elanna shot back in frustration. "I just have to keep it running."

"All right, all right," Derek said to calm her down. "I think for safety's sake, we should power down the warp core before we dock your ship. Do you have secondary power systems?"

"Twelve fusion reactors," B'Elanna replied immediately. "Eight for our impulse drives, and the other four for emergency power."

Derek nodded. "That should work. Now, I was looking at your hull damage and I think we're going to have to do some work to reinforce it before we attach Voyager."

"It's been pretty hard finding readily available sources of duranium and tritanium here," B'Elanna replied. "How do you plan on reinforcing it?"

"We'll just tractor in one of the smaller asteroids out in the belt," Derek said. "There's a molecular furnace in the storage core that should be able to fabricate whatever we need. Now, last question. Do you have any sort of relativistic shielding?"

"Relativistic..." B'Elanna gave him a puzzled look. "Why would that be necessary?"

"Well, I'm not sure how your warp drive works, but relativistic shields are basically stasis fields synchronized with the ship's hyperspace velocity. That way, if you're traveling at one hundred light-years per hour, you actually experience one hour for every hundred light years traveled."

"Huh," B'Elanna frowned. "That would be kind of useful for impulse drives."

"How so?" Derek asked.

"Starfleet limits full impulse to one quarter lightspeed," B'Elanna explained, "because at speeds over that, time dilation slows the crew's response to outside threats."

"Ah." Derek scratched his chin. "Never really thought of it that way. It's just one of those things you wouldn't want to have fail on you..." Realization dawned across his face, and he slapped his forehead in the universal symbol of exasperation. "I can't believe we didn't think of that before..."

"What?"

"If we'd disabled the relativistic shielding, we wouldn't have had to enter hibernation. The last sixty years would only have taken a couple months at sublight..."

B'Elanna started to nod but stopped herself. "I thought Master C'baoth said something about needing the time to generate... what did he call it? Hypermatter?"

"Ah. Right. There goes that idea." The engineer let out a tired laugh. "Not that it would have made any difference now anyway."