Author's Note: This story takes place early in season 1, between "Phage" and "The Cloud." We're gonna be dipping into chaotic space for a bit, and I've pulled much of the details about chaotic space from "The Fight," including some of the dialogue (which I've given to other people, here). Meaning that in this universe that episode doesn't happen.
Mosaic is taken as canon, as usual, so Janeway and Paris knew each other prior to the events of "Caretaker." Even so, this'll be a slowish burn.
I promise that this is not "Coda."
It's still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
As time goes by...
Day 1
Tom takes the last few meters to the turbolift at a run and, skidding inside, calls for the Bridge. The klaxons of the red alert spike his adrenaline and he paces the narrow space impatiently, fighting to keep anxiousness from rising to the level of outright panic. It's been less than a week since their encounter with the Vidiians. His nerves are shot to hell.
The turbolift doors open onto the Bridge and he steps out at once, eyes on the viewscreen. No ship in sight—he exhales, hard. Looks more like bad weather.
"Ion storm?" he asks the Bridge at large, making his way down to the conn.
"Not exactly," Janeway responds tightly. "It's two lightyears across, emits enough energy for a dozen stars, it doesn't match any phenomenon in our database, and it won't sit still."
"Okay, eleven thousand kilometers off the port bow," Harry calls as Tom slides into his chair.
"We are too close," Tuvok warns. "The phenomenon has been shifting positions every few minutes. We should reverse course out of its observed range."
"I'm backing us off," Tom responds. "How can something so massive move that fast?"
"Let's not stick around to find out," Janeway says. "Full reverse, Mr. Paris. Maximum shields."
They aren't quick enough. The ship shudders ominously and Tom looks up to see that they are being engulfed by… whatever it is. It's almost like a blanket of stars, or an ocean of them, twisting and reshaping itself as it overcomes Voyager. The hull creaks, and Tom has the uncomfortable impression of being submerged. Pinpoints of light dance in the distance. It would be beautiful, if it weren't setting off a thousand warning bells in his mind.
"Full stop," Janeway barks. "Anybody want to tell me where we are?"
Harry answers first. "I'm picking up a lot of raw data. Subspace flux, graviton waves... I think we must be inside the disturbance. But the readings are shifting around so much I can't make heads or tails of what's out there."
Janeway sighs, then taps her combadge. "Janeway to Torres. Meet me in the Science Lab. Harry, you too," she adds, waving him over to the turbolift. "Let's go find out what we're looking at."
Time drags in their wake, all the adrenaline of the initial event gone and Tom with little to do at the helm, Voyager's anchor effectively dropped. Not for the first time, he wishes he could stash a book under his console. Something to take his mind off his present uselessness. Every so often a tremor passes through the ship, but neither he nor Tuvok can identify the source. Space undulates before him, and he finds it, as a navigator, incredibly unnerving. He considers cracking a joke about replicating curtains, but with Tuvok as his audience, there's not much point.
He taps his foot against the base of his station. Tuvok clears his throat meaningfully.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity but is probably a little under two hours, the Captain and Harry return to the Bridge, B'Elanna in tow.
"Briefing room, now," Janeway orders, not pausing on her way there.
As the senior staff settle themselves around the table, Tom tries to get a read on Janeway's mood. She's hunched low, speaking rapidly under her breath to Chakotay as he takes the seat to her left. She looks up and briefly meets Tom's gaze, giving nothing away, then straightens to address the room.
"We're calling it Chaotic space," she says when they're all seated. "We seem to be in some kind of pocket of subspace, and if it's got any constant laws of physics, we can't nail them down."
"If the physical constants are shifting, sensors will not be able to chart a course out of this 'pocket'," Tuvok observes.
"It's worse than that," B'Elanna says. "That shaking we've been feeling? It seems to be due to changes in the gravitational coefficient. It's causing sudden shear forces against our hull."
"In which case," Tuvok interjects, "our shields are not going to hold indefinitely."
"Precisely," Janeway confirms. "And we don't know how long we've got. But we're almost certainly going to have to completely redesign the sensors, otherwise we're flying blind."
An uneasy silence descends over the room.
Janeway looks at each of them in turn. "We haven't had a very warm welcome to the Delta Quadrant, I know. But I believe in our ability to get this done, together." She meets Tom's gaze again, and holds it this time. "Let's get to work. Tom, you're with me. Harry and B'Elanna will keep working on the shields from Engineering. Chakotay, Tuvok, hold down the fort."
They rise in unison and filter out of the room in pairs. Only Tom hangs back, waiting until he can speak freely.
"Why me?" he murmurs to Janeway.
"Please," she answers with a slight smile, the first of the day. "Don't act like I don't know about your secret proficiency in Advanced Subspace Geometry. Come on, you and I are going back to the Science Lab to find a way out of here."
They enter the turbolift together and, as she calls for deck eight, he takes the opportunity to observe her properly. She looks tense, a little wan. He tries to think of something to say to lift her spirits, a joke, anything, but he comes up short. This never used to be a problem for him, and he doesn't love that it is now, of all times, when his knack for charming small talk no matter the dire circumstances would really come in handy.
She notes his scrutiny and scrunches her nose at him. "That bad?" she asks, feigning a lightness he's sure she does not feel.
"You? Never," Tom says, smiling. She rolls her eyes at him but huffs a small laugh.
The doors open onto deck eight, and they head down the corridor in lockstep. It's true, Advanced Subspace Geometry was his favorite course at the Academy—or anyway, his favorite academic course. Even so, this is his first time stepping foot in Voyager's Science Lab. As they enter the room he right away feels out of place, like a bull in a china shop. He stops himself from reminding Janeway that he's just a pilot; he'd rather be doing something here than nothing at the helm, anyway.
If Janeway notices his discomfort, she ignores it. She powers up one of the terminals and he joins her there, leaning in close. He stares at the fragmented astronomical data incredulously. Harry was right: the sensors are confused as hell. Janeway makes a small sound of annoyance as she reads the data anew.
"Why don't you work from there," she nods to the station adjacent to hers, "and let's start applying algorithms to some of these energy signatures. See if we can figure out a pattern."
"Yes, ma'am," he says dutifully, earning himself another eye roll. He moves to the other console and they work in silence for a few minutes. He only gets as far as the first batch of data, however, before Janeway suddenly jerks forward, her hands flying to her temples.
"What's wrong?" Tom asks, bolting out from behind his console.
Janeway lets out a low moan. "I don't know. Headache. The worst headache I've ever… Tom," she says, and she sounds scared. Her knees give out and Tom grabs hold of her, carefully lowers her to the floor.
He slaps his combadge. "Paris to Sickbay, medical emergency in the Science Lab!"
"Acknowledged," Kes answers. "On my way."
"Tom," Janeway warns, voice low and sluggish, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm going to pass out."
"Don't," he advises. "We don't know what's happening to you. Stay with me, help will be here any minute. You've gotta stay with me."
"Tell them, blurry vision. Sensitivity to light. The pain…" she groans again.
"It's alright, hey. Don't try to talk." He feels her go limp against him, and he slams his combadge again. "Paris to Kes, what the hell is taking so long?"
But at last the doors hiss open and Kes dashes in, medkit in hand. "What's her status?" she asks, flipping open a medical tricorder.
"She had a headache, out of nowhere, really bad. She said her vision was blurry, that the lights were too bright. Couldn't stand up."
Kes' eyes are huge as she analyzes the tricorder data. "She has a large aneurysm in her brain and it looks like it's ruptured. We have to get her to Sickbay immediately, or—"
An alarm sounds on the tricorder, and terror seizes hold of Tom. "Paris to Transporter Room 2, we need an emergency medical transport right now!"
"Aye, sir," comes the response, and a moment later Tom feels the familiar tingling of the beam out. They rematerialize in Sickbay exactly as they'd been in the Science Lab, the Captain slumped over his lap, unmoving. The Doctor rushes over and, with Kes' help, moves Janeway to the biobed. Tom rises, unsteadily.
"She's not getting enough oxygen to her brain," the Doctor snaps. "We need to perform emergency surgery. Microvascular beam, quickly!"
But alarms are sounding continuously now, and Tom knows, he knows, that they are too late.
For the second time today, time seems to slow. The Doctor and Kes work furiously to revive the Captain, but it seems to Tom as though they're moving at half-speed, like sprinting underwater. The Doctor places a cortical stimulator on Janeway's forehead, and Janeway jerks and then is still again.
"No vital signs, no brain activity," Kes shouts, and it sounds muffled in Tom's ears.
"Again."
Janeway spasms once more, goes slack.
"No change. Doctor—"
"Again!"
Tom moves slowly, so slowly to the biobed, and that no one tries to stop him should terrifying him. He stands worthlessly at Janeway's side, afraid to touch her, afraid to do anything at all. If they're all underwater then he must be drowning, and maybe his brain just hasn't caught up, maybe that's why nothing's making any sense. He wills her to move, to open her eyes, to yell at him for dragging her into Sickbay. Someone shuts off the alarms, and Tom thinks he might be sick.
"Make a note in the log," he hears the Doctor say, as though from a vast distance. "Death occurred at 1302 hours. Cause: ruptured intracranial aneurysm."
Gradually he becomes aware that Kes has placed a gentle hand on his forearm. They want him to move. There is procedure to be followed, he knows. He knows. He tells himself to move.
But he looks into Kathryn Janeway's ashen face, and he does not know how to leave her.
Day 5
Tom is having a lousy day off. This is not totally unprecedented, in and of itself. He's built up a bit of goodwill over the past three months, but the crew is still broadly mistrustful of him. They should thank him, really: it's the one thing that Starfleet and Maquis can agree on. His screw-up outsider status a banner around which they can rally.
He doesn't hold it against them. But he could sure do without Dalby picking a fight with him over breakfast.
He spots Harry waiting for him outside the doors to Holodeck 2, and waves, jogs the last few steps. "Am I late? I got a little held up."
"You're right on time, actually," Harry replies, feigning shock. "Parrises squares?"
"You got it," Tom agrees. Harry punches in the program code and the doors open onto a pristine court. Tom spots the requisite gear in a corner and heads over to grab a mallet. He feels the tension of the morning slide off him; this is just what he needs today. He's just about to ask Harry if he's chosen their holographic opponents already, when B'Elanna's voice fills the room like an Engineering demigod.
"Torres to Kim. Harry, are you busy right now? I could really use your help with a problem over here."
Harry looks at Tom like a deer in headlights, and Tom rolls his eyes. "He'll be right over, B'Elanna," Tom answers on Harry's behalf.
"Great, Torres out!"
"It's almost like she plans it," Tom grumbles.
He drops the mallet resignedly and walks Harry to the turbolift. "You wanna come along?" Harry offers. "What else do you have going on today?"
"Yeah, that would go well." Tom can just imagine the hell he'd pay for being underfoot, uninvited, in Engineering. He sends Harry on his way with a wave and a sigh.
The day only goes downhill from there. A spatial disturbance… swallows the ship, for want of a better word. They're calling it Chaotic space, and the urgency Tom feels to get the hell out of it is only amplified by Tuvok's warning that the shields could give out at any time. Tom's always been a little claustrophobic, but it's not often a problem in open space. But this is different. This doesn't feel anything like space.
"Tom," Janeway is saying, "you're with me. Harry and B'Elanna will keep working on the shields from Engineering. Chakotay, Tuvok, hold down the fort."
They head to the Science Lab, bantering a little to cut the tension. He's just thinking that for once he's glad to be down here instead of at the helm, where he'd currently be feeling very much at odds, when Janeway buckles. She tries to hang on to her console and Tom crosses the room in three quick steps to support her slight frame, easing her down.
"My head…" Janeway groans. Her eyes are shut tight, though the light in the room is dim. She puts a hand over her mouth. "I might throw up on you," she warns, slurring a little.
"You know you can always puke on me," Tom tries to joke, hoping to hold her attention, but he feels her go limp against him. He decides to call it.
"Paris to Transporter Room 2, we need an emergency medical beam out!"
Tom just has time to hear the answering "Aye, sir," and then they're in Sickbay. The Doctor and Kes look momentarily taken aback before hastening to their side.
"She was complaining about her head," Tom supplies from the floor before anyone has time to ask. "Nausea, maybe sensitivity to light. The pain seemed extreme."
The Doctor passes a tricorder over Janeway's skull and Kes, receiving the data at a medical station, inhales sharply.
"We need to perform brain surgery, immediately. Kes—"
But before he can finish his sentence alarms begin to blare. He seems to change tacks and attaches a cortical stimulator to Janeway's forehead, and Tom hasn't been training as a medic for long but he recognizes emergency measures when he sees them. He quickly slides Janeway off of his lap and steadies her on the floor.
"Ten milligrams cordrazine. We'll use it in conjunction with the stimulator. Now!"
Tom lets go of Janeway and Kes activates the device. Janeway's head jerks back, horribly. "No pulse, no brain activity."
Tom stares at her. "How—"
"Again." the Doctor interrupts.
Kes does, almost angrily. "No vital signs."
"Again!"
How is this happening so fast? Tom wants to shout. And then, why aren't you doing anything! Because the Doctor has stopped speaking, is gently detaching the cortical stimulator. But Janeway is not moving.
"Time of death, 1302 hours. Note the cause of death as a ruptured intracranial aneurysm. Kes…" the Doctor hesitates, briefly. "Kes, prepare the autopsy protocols."
Tom looks down at Janeway, his hand hovering just over hers, and his mind fails utterly to comprehend what he is seeing.
Day 12
Tom rides down to the Science Lab with Janeway and wisely decides to keep his observation that she looks like she could use a straight caffeine hypospray to himself. Still, she notices his attention, and pulls a face.
"Do I look that bad?" she asks him tiredly.
"Never," he smiles.
"I was up late. Later than usual," she amends, at his widening grin. "I was supposed to have the day off!"
"I know the feeling," he agrees.
The doors open onto deck eight and together they hurry down the corridor. The hull might not be buckling yet, but Tom feels like he's in a submarine way past its maximum depth, and the clock is running. Another gravitational shear rocks the ship and Tom reaches out to steady Janeway automatically. She shoots him a warning look, but says nothing.
When they reach the lab, they each take a console and begin searching for patterns in the chaotic sensor readings. Tom is just about to break the silence, when from the corner of his eye he sees her clutch head with both hands. He's by her side in a flash and she collapses against him, white with pain.
He slaps his combadge, figuring she can berate him for setting the Doctor on her later. "Paris to Sickbay, medical emergency in the Science Lab!"
Kes acknowledges in her most calming voice, and Tom turns his attention back to Janeway.
"What's happening?" he asks, his limited medical training kicking in. "Can you describe the pain?"
"Head," she responds vaguely. "Oh my god, Tom—"
"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay. Kes is on her way." Janeway twists her body away from him and vomits onto the carpet.
"Okay, it's alright," Tom soothes as she groans, squeezing her eyes shut against the overhead lights. He calls for minimum illumination. "Talk to me, stay with me." He casts around desperately for some distraction. "What were you doing up so late?"
She tries to laugh. "Book," she forces out.
"Well that figures," he says fondly, smoothing her hair away from her face, shuffling them backwards away from the pool of vomit. "What book?"
Silence. Dread washes over him. Sickbay is only three decks up, what the hell—
Kes, finally, sprints into the room. "Scan her brain," Tom tells her. "Captain, can you hear me?"
But Janeway doesn't respond, her body dead weight against him. "Tom," Kes says urgently, and he doesn't need telling twice. He calls for an emergency beam out while Kes alerts Sickbay that they're coming. When they rematerialize, Tom helps the Doctor move Janeway to a biobed, noticing as he does so that—
"She's not breathing!" he shouts. Kes races to prepare a cortical stimulator…
But it's too late. A ruptured intracranial aneurysm, the Doctor announces. There's nothing more they can do.
Day 23
"All hands, this is Commander Chakotay. Captain Janeway… is dead. I am assuming command of Voyager."
Tom collapses against the wall outside of Sickbay, trembling violently. Outside, Chaotic space bears down against the ship's hull, a ticking time bomb. But all he can think of is Janeway's bloodless face, her too-still body on the biobed, and he cannot understand why it feels like all of this has happened before.
A/N:
SEVEN: Chaotic space appears randomly and unexpectedly. The Borg have observed it throughout the galaxy.
TUVOK: Then why hasn't a Federation starship encountered anything like this?
SEVEN: No doubt some have.
—5x18, "The Fight"
Tom outs his secret proficiency in Advanced Subspace Geometry in the episode "Vis à Vis."