"Whipped butter sauce?!" the Doctor exclaimed. "A more accurate adjective would have been wicked butter sauce, given its contents."
The Doctor had spent the better part of an hour examining her and asking her questions about the time she had spent in the Dolmans' facility. In conjunction with the medical records that Tom was able to extract and her testimony, the Doctor was compiling a report on her capture and treatment.
To her relief, her injuries had been fairly minor, and there were only trace amounts of sedative in her system. She had told him that she hadn't ingested any of the sauce, a fortunate turn of events, since the Doctor had found records that labelled it as an incredibly powerful hallucinogen.
She was also relieved that the Doctor hadn't questioned her too greatly on the deaths of the two security officers. The notion of having to file not one but two deaths into the ship's record induced a whole other kind of dread in her.
Janeway crossed her legs on the Bio-Bed. "Do the records say why it was created?"
The Doctor pursed his lips and shook his head. "There's no explicit explanation that I can find save that it was used to control the prisoners, making them more cooperative and suggestible. But they've been using this drug for years, Captain. The records extend back over a decade, and that's only from the files that Mister Paris retrieved."
Kes, who had been working alongside the Doctor, chimed in. "If they've had this drug for so long, then they've had time to perfect it. It could have taken them even longer to accomplish that."
The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "That's the unfortunate reality. Beyond this ten-year period, we have no idea of how or why they used this compound. Though I'm relieved that you weren't exposed to it. Long-term effects suggest potential nerve damage and neural degradation…among other things."
Janeway raised an eyebrow, settling her chin upon the closed fist of her hand. "Do the records make any mentions of the cloning operation? Were the drugs tied to the clones themselves?"
The Doctor crossed his arms. "None that I can see. Beyond the original donors, the drugs don't appear to have had any influence upon the cloning operation. Though that in itself is simultaneously a biological miracle and a political nightmare." The Doctor walked over to his desk and picked up the PADD that was perched on its edge. "I did some further reading on this Kamuter process that you mentioned. It appears to be a major component of the Dolmans' way of life. They move from sector to sector, civilization to civilization, conquering by subterfuge. These clones serve as scouts and spies into the civilizations that they then conquer."
Both Janeway and Kes were stunned by the news. Though Janeway had already been privy to a great deal of that information, hearing it so plainly made it even more chilling. The Delta Quadrant had no shortage of wonders, but also a plethora of horrors that overshadowed even the grisliest of nightmares.
Janeway broke the silence with a shallow monotone. "I think it's safe to say that Malock had a similar plan for Voyager. I can only hope that that never becomes a reality."
"If you're back on Voyager," Kes interjected, "I think it'll be more difficult for them to carry out that plan."
Janeway smiled briefly. "I certainly hope so."
The Doctor cleared his throat. "While this is all rather fascinating, I do have work to do. You're free to go, Captain, but no active duty for another twenty-four hours. In that time, I expect you to get some rest."
Janeway hopped off the Bio-Bed and adjusted her uniform. "Are you going to have someone check on me, or are you really letting me off that easily?"
The Doctor grimaced. "Is that sarcasm, or are you purposely mocking me?"
Janeway held up a hand. "Never mind. Thank you, Doctor."
She watched the Doctor turn back to his office, shaking his head and mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath. Janeway paid it no mind. Kes stood nearby, a curious glint in her eyes.
"Captain, you mentioned that you were taken at some point. Do you think that the Dolmans…harvested any of your genetic material?"
Janeway paused, noting Kes' trepidation as well as her own. She still had no idea what had happened after she had been sedated, and the endless possibilities offered her no further comfort. The idea of her own clones walking about was enough to fuel several nightmares, some of which would probably come to haunt her in the near future.
She placed her hands on Kes' shoulders. "To be perfectly honest…I don't know. A part of me thinks that they didn't, given how specific they were with their Extraction process. But another part says that anything is possible. Cloning only requires a shred of genetic material, something that they could have easily acquired from me."
Kes nodded. "Cloning is something that I've only just learned about, thanks to the Doctor. But it's such a remarkable technology. Why would someone abuse it in such a way? I think about how it could be used to create new organs or tissues, and yet people seem to choose to use it to further their own agendas. Doesn't there seem to be something wrong with that?"
Hollowness opened within Janeway when she heard that, allowing truth to burrow further into her. The disheartening reality was not unique to the Dolmans way of life. They looked to the best interest of their race rather than others, and that had spread throughout the generations into a society that focused solely on Kamuter—"the Switch".
"Yes," Janeway replied at last. "There is." She gave Kes a single pat on the shoulder and excused herself from Sickbay.
Captain's Personal Log, Stardate 49464.7:
It's been almost a week since our encounter with the Dolmans and my escape from their cloning facility. There have been no further signs of their ships, or any of their so-called 'products'. I don't know where my former cellmate Kashyk originally came from, but given the number of clones that the Dolmans had of him, he was likely of great importance.
Despite Voyager's destination being in the opposite direction of Dolman space, I can't quite shake the feeling that this ordeal has been left open-ended. I'm not one to hold onto loose threads, but something tells me that we haven't seen the last of the Dolmans or of Kashyk.
The chime to her quarters rang only minutes after she had finished her log entry. Despite all the lights remaining active in her quarters, it was well into the night, which left her questioning who it could be. She stood from her chair and set aside her copy of Dante, adjusting her shirt before answering the door.
"Come in."
When the door opened, none other than Tom Paris stood before the frame. He took a few steps inside and let the door close behind him. They both knew not to let the other linger outside their quarters late at night.
Tom shuffled his feet. "How are you feeling?"
"I've been better." She motioned for the seat across from hers and let Tom sit down.
She swept a hand through her long hair, which she'd let down from her usual bun. There was a little too much silence between them this time, but a part of her wasn't entirely eager to breach it.
Tom did that for her.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
She shook her head, letting a hand fall onto her book. "Not really." She shifted her gaze from him to her window. "I've spent so much time being around people that I don't know and having everything I do watched and every word recorded, whether it be for testing or a report, that I just want to be alone."
Tom nodded, his eyes glancing towards his boots. She could feel him withdrawing, coiling back into the cocoon he so rarely inhabited.
"This just isn't a good time for talking, Tom. Not for me."
"You never were one for talking much, were you?"
She nearly slapped him. "What the hell does that mean?"
Tom stood up rapidly. "Every time we meet we don't talk. We jump into bed. Because that's what you want. You don't want to talk about us, or even for us to talk like two regular people do. Face it, Kathryn, we're in this. We have to try and work on it, don't we?"
She stood up with him, standing close to him. "I don't know what you think we are, but there is nothing official about you and I. I am still your commanding officer and I said I don't want to talk about it, and that is my final word!"
She picked up her Dante and marched for her room, hoping to block Tom off so that he'd leave.
"It's not your fault, y'know."
She stopped, caught by the last hook of his words. She turned back, heart in her throat. Was he referring to…?
"What isn't?" she asked, tucking her book against her chest.
Tom's hands fell to his sides. "Tighe and Rollins. I talked to Tuvok after what happened. Both of them would have died for you any day."
She felt her heart flare, anger surging through her veins. "Is that supposed to comfort me? I have to log the deaths of two of my crew and that's what you have to say about it?"
Tom threw his hands up. "What the hell else do you expect me to say? Look, I know this has been awful but I want to help. Kathryn…I just want to help."
She bit her lip, her throat tight. She set her copy of Dante down on the nearby table and crossed her arms. "I know."
Tom moved closer to her, arms open. She let him get close but put a hand against his chest to give her a momentary buffer. "I know you want to help, but sometimes you can't. There are some burdens that a captain must carry alone, and this is one of them."
Tom lowered his arms and nodded solemnly. "I guess it is."
She motioned for the door and whispered quietly. "You're dismissed."
Tom turned and walked to the door. Just before he reached it he turned back to her. "Until next time, then?"
Janeway stiffened, altogether uncertain. Where she once had one idea of the future, she now had a smudged vision that served no purpose.
"I don't know," she answered at last.
Tom left without another word.
Fin