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Episode
8-13 - Remora
The last meal of the day had been served, and Crewman Chell was wiping down the last of the tables. He scratched the surface with his thumbnail to free up a spot of dried sauce from the day's Chicken Catch a Torres, and then gave it one final swipe. There. He looked around the mess hall--his mess hall--and smiled. Seven months ago, nobody was sure Neelix's shoes could be filled. Sure, he hadn't taken on all of the Talaxian's duties--who would want to? But the mess hall--that was an assignment Chell had coveted long before Neelix left. It wasn't often a cook could give a duranium-bellied Bolian a case of indigestion, but Neelix had succeeded more than once--and he was determined never to let that happen again. He put up the last of the chairs and returned to the kitchen. He still had work to do. They would be here soon. There had been early concerns about letting Chell handle the meals, and not simply because his Starfleet (bah!) service record left much to be desired. No, it was simple prejudice against the legendary Bolian constitution, and fears that those not similarly blessed would have their insides jellied within a week. He smiled remembering Dalby's exaggerated--as usual--warnings: "Count me out--Chell drinks cherry-flavored warp plasma!" Chell grabbed the bottle of kichim. Dalby was half-right; it was cherry-flavored. But the syrupy drink he loved so well would hardly give the engines a decent impulse boost, let alone warp. Kichim was light nectar compared to that vile raktajino Dalby favored. Chell had wanted this job. He was, truth be told, the only one who wanted the job. But he'd lobbied as though it were the cream of the duty roster, and Chakotay convinced the captain--and Chell had earned fans in a hurry. His creative dishes had proven to be delicious for every species on board. The most dangerous part of the menu was the awful puns Chell used to name them. It was an ongoing source of pride. Chell added some more decanters on a serving tray along with six clean glasses, and walked them over to the table surrounded by sofas near the window. All he had to do now was wait. Chell had never warmed to Neelix's role as Voyager's morale officer, but he would rise to the occasion for a special subset of the crew. After all, it was Hudson's Day. *** "To Cal Hudson--the first and the finest!" Dalby raised his glass in toast. A bit of raktajino sloshed over the side. "Here, here!" the others said, not quite together, clinking the rims together over the now-sticky table. The cups' contents, once unique, had begun to blend together after a series of toasts. Jaren's coffee mixed with Tabor's synthale. Dalby's raktajino swam with Chell's kichim. Splashes of all these, and Ayala's tequila, swirled in poor Billy Telfer's water glass like a demonic lava lamp. "Tell us about the time Hudson took out that Galor-class vessel," Billy said eagerly. "You mean the time he snuggled up to the belly of that sucker in a type-two shuttle and set the warp core to overload?" Dalby asked. "Hell, if it weren't for me running the transporters, it would have been his last mission." Dalby's words were beginning to slur. There may have been some blood wine mixed in with the already-potent brew. Only Chell knew for certain, and he wasn't saying. "Maybe we should call this Dalby's Day," Ayala noted wryly, and there were smiles all around. Dalby had been monopolizing conversation on this annual flight through the Memory Nebula; with each passing year, Dalby's role in the exploits of the legendary Commander Hudson, one of the key founders of the Maquis, had grown increasingly central. "No way," Dalby insisted. "Although--I was there when Cal stared down Sisko, you know…" Chell rolled his eyes, as he always did. "We know…" Dalby ignored him, as he always did, honoring the tradition. "It's hard to believe those two were ever friends, the way they glared at each other." His eyes lost focus as his mind recalled the scene. "You say he and Sisko went way back," said Billy. "Yeah," said Dalby, taking another sip, wincing as a drop of kichim sizzled on his tongue. "Cal told me once about their time in New Berlin. They were like brothers." Dalby's smile faded; he shook his head sadly. The silence caused the men to stare into their drinks, each lost in thought of brothers lost and left behind. "Until he showed up with that damned Gul Dukat, I think Cal was convinced he could bring Sisko around. After seeing all the Cardies had done to Bajor, why wouldn't he have fought for the rights of our own Federation citizens?" Chell's face flushed with blue intensity. "It was bad enough that he didn't join us! Sisko destroyed us!" Jaren frowned at this. "You saw Sveta's letter. The Dominion did that." "It was Sisko's war crimes that helped them do it!" Chell bellowed. "He poisoned one of our colony worlds!" "I'm not defending Sisko," Jaren said. "But it was Eddington who started the scorched-earth tactic against the Cardies." Scorched-earth had happened enough under the Cardassian occupation of Bajor that Jaren abhorred anyone who would use such a tactic. "Eddington had no choice," Dalby muttered darkly. "And Sisko did give the colonists time to escape," Tabor added. "Nobody died. And he stopped as soon as Eddington turned himself in." "You ARE defending him!" Chell bellowed at the two Bajorans. "Just because he's your Emissary--" Ayala rolled his eyes. Here we go again… "He saved the whole Alpha Quadrant from the Dominion!" Tabor shouted. "And from the Pah Wraiths!" Jaren added. "Where did the Maquis fit into that whole?" Dalby demanded. "Besides an unmarked grave?" "He helped Eddington rescue some of us from the Dominion--!" "And now they're in jail, like we're gonna be if Janeway ever--" "That's enough!" Ayala shouted. "All of you!" It was inevitable. Maquis were fighters by nature--the meek Billy excepted--and nothing if not fractious. Every party became a brawl. Billy had brought extra dermal regenerators just in case. They all glared at each other, ready to pounce. But Ayala was an officer, and could toss them in the brig--and, like Chakotay, had a mean right hook if they insisted on settling things the Maquis Way. Tempers gradually cooled to a low simmer. Ayala fixed his gaze on each man until his fists unclenched. When the danger was past, he relaxed his own hands and picked up his drink. He tossed the tequila back with one gulp. Maybe they could avoid a brawl this year. But then Ken Dalby pulled out his phaser. He didn't point it anywhere in particular; he simply held it like a cherished trophy. "If me and my good luck charm had had just five minutes with that guy…" Chell openly admired the hash marks on the phaser's handle. "Look at all those kills! Sisko wouldn't stand a chance." He got an idea, and ran from the table toward the nearest replicator. The two Bajorans seethed. They were proud Maquis, but they drew the line at demonizing the Emissary. Sisko was with the Prophets now, as he deserved to be after all he'd done to preserve and revitalize Bajor. Ayala was shocked into a recent memory. The last time he'd seen Dalby's phaser, it was a centuries-old relic in Chakotay's quarters. He had promised the Commander he would say nothing, but he had a sudden premonition…and shuddered. "Hudson would kill you himself if you tried," Ayala said. "You know that better than any of us. Put it away, Ken." Dalby didn't press the point. Muttering something about "the last Maquis standing," he holstered his weapon. The tension in the room lessened when the weapon was safely away. Dalby patted it, as he always did. For luck. "As long as this baby is on my hip or in my hand, I'll live forever," Dalby vowed. "Careful what you wish for, Ken," Ayala said. He wished he could say more. The mood was turning morose. Each man was caught up in a solitary reverie. The party was drawing to a close. "If only those upper-deck Starfleet pukes would give me a chance to use it again. No offense," he added hastily, smiling at Ayala. He'd been itching in vain for action for nearly eight years now. Voyager had seen plenty of action…but almost none of it reached him. There was precious little room for true warriors on Voyager. Chell was determined to end it on a positive note. "I'll eat to that," he said, arriving with a large bowl of ice cream topped with chocolate, nuts, whipped cream, and exotic fruits. "I call it Self Destruct Sundae," he said proudly, handing out six spoons. "The first bite is yours," he said, handing the last to Dalby. Dalby scooped up a generous dollop. He thought for a moment. "To Hudson," he said at last, raising the spoon. The others grabbed their own spoonfuls. "To Hudson!" They each took a gooey bite. Chell grabbed the next sugary toast. "To Eddington!" "To Eddington!" Ayala took the third. He paused, as if considering his words. "To fallen comrades," he said. His voice broke as he looked at Dalby. Six spoons rose in silent tribute. "I'll help you clean up," Billy said to Chell. "Me too," said Tabor. The other three volunteered as well, and they helped each other off the couch and began picking up utensils. But then an all-too-familiar sound hit them. Red alert. "This is the captain," they heard over the comm. "All hands to battle stations. All hands--" Chell was already at his station. "I've got it. Go." They handed him their spoons and left the rest on the table. As the room cleared, Chell set about securing the tables and chairs. * * * Captain's Log, Stardate 55350.5. Since the encounter with the Sernaix Ship Mind, Seven of Nine has been working tirelessly to unlock the data downloaded to her cortical node. Each scrap of information helps us better understand our adversary, but very little has improved our ability to defend ourselves. For all our sakes, I hope that changes soon. "Report," Janeway said as she entered Astrometrics. Chakotay followed close behind. "Sensor modifications are almost complete," Seven of Nine said. She finished a series of commands at one station, and then strode to the next to begin a new sequence. "It's about time," Janeway said, with the hint of a smile. Seven bristled. "The Sernaix data has been difficult to assimilate. Ozymandias downloaded it into my cortical node without providing the necessary context for access. I am--" "It was a joke, Seven," Janeway said, raising a hand to halt further protest. "I know you're giving this your all." Seven acknowledged with a tired nod. She had been living in Astrometrics the past few weeks, overseeing the sensor modifications. When she wasn't there, she was in Sickbay with the Doctor, trying to coax the information out, or in her alcove regenerating--usually under protest and doctor's orders, and on one occasion under security escort. Seven's contact with the Sernaix Ship Mind had made her a potentially valuable resource in their struggle with the Sernaix. But only if they could get to that data in time. "You'll like what she's uncovered so far," Harry said. "I've been running scans with the new settings. Take a look at this." He pulled up an image on the large Astrometric screen. They were used to the view by now--empty space, disturbed by the occasional bare ripple that hinted at the presence of a Sernaix vessel. "Oh, this is much better," Janeway said sourly. Harry smiled. "This is with our old sensors. And this--" he tapped a few buttons on the console, "is the upgraded view. " The screen changed dramatically. Where there had been ripples, ships now appeared. Big, fat, juicy-target ships. Janeway's mouth watered at the prospect. Chakotay's eyes went wide. "Impressive." Janeway let her first officer handle the praise. She skipped straight to the threat. "How many are there?" "Twenty-seven," Harry said. "Twenty-four smaller Runabout-sized vessels, three scouts. No big ones yet." Harry entered a few more commands, and the view of the vessels gave way to a tactical map where each was represented by a blip. "The nearest is twelve light-years away. The good news is they're all heading away from us." Janeway frowned. "Still, we haven't seen that many ships before--and we can barely survive an encounter with one. Seven, have you come up with any new data on their defenses or weapons?" Seven shook her head but continued to work. "Not yet." "Keep an eye on them, Harry. Seven, get those upgrades finished as soon as you can." Seven rose from her station and clasped her hands behind her back. "Modifications complete." Janeway smiled. "That's what I like to hear. Good work, both of you. Seven, help Harry run another scan--maximum range and sensitivity. Call me the moment you find something. I don't want any more surprises." Harry sent a proud smile towards Seven. "Aye, Captain." Janeway and Chakotay left Astrometrics. Harry noticed Seven of Nine slump ever so slightly after the door closed. "Are you really finished?" he asked. "For now," Seven said wearily. Ozymandias has not made it easy to access his 'gift.'" "Making things easy wasn't his style," Harry agreed. "Care to start the next scan? You've earned it." Seven smiled, though it didn't quite reach her exhausted eyes. "Thank you." A moment later, Harry's console chirped. "Something's coming up," Harry said. He worked the controls, and two large blips appeared on the Astrometrics screen. "Grid 19-J. Can you identify them?" "Enhancing," Seven said. A moment later the grid was isolated, then zoomed. Seven switched to a non-iconic view. Harry's shoulders sagged at the two bat-like behemoths. "Battlecruisers. TWO of them." "I'm reading something else," Seven said. "Attempting to isolate--" While Seven's fingers flew over the consoles, Harry touched his combadge and summoned the captain. *** "What is it?" Janeway asked. "It's big," Harry said. "Over 700 meters long. Wingspan over 500 meters. We're still working on refining the scan--" "I thought you said those were complete," Janeway said, giving Seven a hard look. "Those modifications were sufficient to discover this vessel. We require further modifications to analyze it more thoroughly." Janeway nodded. "Fair enough. Good work. What else can you tell me about it?" "Well, it's definitely Sernaix, and it has the same cloaking abilities," Harry said. "I have no idea what all those--spikes are for. Sensors, maybe. There are dozens of them. It's flanked by two of those big battlecruisers, so it must be important." "Anything else?" Chakotay asked. "Well, it's not moving. But all the smaller vessels are heading straight for it. It may be a carrier of some sort." "Have you detected any other Sernaix?" Janeway asked. "No ma'am. Every vessel in sensor range is converging on that spot." "It's a Node ship," Seven said suddenly. All eyes turned to her. "How do you know that?" Chakotay asked. "More important, what does it mean?" Janeway asked. Seven frowned in deep concentration. "The Sernaix datalink…I believe further details are available, but it is difficult to access." Janeway nodded. "Contact the Doctor. You may be due for another nap. Give him what you can, then let him work on it while you regenerate. Harry, you'll be on your own until Icheb arrives." Harry blinked. "Didn't you assign him to Tom?" "Yes, but right now he's more valuable here. Icheb will have plenty of time for pilot training." "Yes, ma'am," Harry said, grateful for the help. He gave Seven a smile, which she returned before leaving. He was almost as tired as she was, but there was no question she'd earned the break. Reassignment, he corrected himself. Seven would work just as hard with the Doctor to get the information they needed. He only hoped Doc would make her regenerate before she collapsed. "How long until the vessels reach the Node?" Harry checked the console. "The first of them should arrive within forty-two minutes." "I'll be back in forty-five. Chakotay?" The captain and first officer left Harry to his work, then exited into the corridor. The soft blinking of the red alert beacon glowed in the darkened walkway. "Damn. We're running out of time, Chakotay." "Another day, another crisis," Chakotay muttered wryly. "You'll get us through. You always do." Janeway looked up at her first officer. "You saw the size of that fleet. How can we possibly beat them?" Chakotay was silent for a moment. "I don't know yet. I just know that we will." He smiled reassuringly. Janeway gave her first officer a long look. As often as they butted heads, she knew they wouldn't have gotten this far without him by her side. At last Janeway's smile joined his. "Who knows--this new breed of ship may be chattier than the last one." Chakotay laughed softly. "There's the captain I know best." *** Forty minutes later, the first Scout ships slowed to a stop near the Node vessel. Harry had every recording device in Astrometrics trained on the scene, but he kept a large chunk of the main viewscreen open for a simple visual. There were times when there was no substitute for a good hard look with the human eye. He wasn't disappointed. "The first ship is approaching the Node," Icheb reported. "Can you get a closer view?" "I believe so." Icheb had arrived a half hour before, and though he and Harry had chatted about his piloting lessons with Tom, Icheb didn't seem to mind the reassignment. It gave him a chance to ask about Seven's condition. Like Harry, he was concerned for her. A spike on the upper port end of the larger ship came into a closer view, as the small corsair inched toward it. "Talk about ugly," Harry said. "In what way?" Icheb asked, confused. The question brought Harry up short. "I don't know. It's just--like something out of a nightmare. Like a ghost with snakes for hair." Icheb stared hard at the screen. "I don't see either of those. It is what it is." Lieutenant Kim smiled; out of the mouths of babes...He had always tried to be open minded about species and their customs. A little too open-minded at times. He remembered Tal and that sweet but too-brief affair, followed by weeks of painful itching and irritability that lasted longer than Janeway's wrath. Just thinking of it made him scratch his chest. Harry grinned. "Maybe you're right. When I was a kid I used to scare myself by seeing monsters in the shapes...of the...clouds--" Harry's words drifted away as he found himself transfixed by the view. The small ship appeared to be merging with the spine. A docking maneuver, maybe? Or maybe the bigger ship is swallowing it. After seven months in the bubble, Harry felt confident in his conclusion that these Sernaix were one weird bunch. "I picked up increased output in the Delta and Theta bands on contact," Icheb reported. "The Doctor may find this interesting." Harry tried to suppress a yawn, and failed. "Are you all right, Lieutenant?" Icheb asked. "Just a long shift," Harry said sleepily. "Keep scanning; your eyes are fresher than mine." Icheb nodded. "Two more vessels approaching the Node." Each time a vessel docked, Icheb recorded a surge in the Delta and Theta bands. And each time, Harry found it more difficult to keep his eyes open. "One of the Scout ships is docking," Icheb said. When he received no response, he looked over to find Harry fast asleep. Just then, Janeway arrived. "Lieutenant!" she barked, but Harry did not stir. "How long has he been like this?" she asked. "Just a moment," Icheb said. Janeway tried to shake him awake, but all that accomplished was to send him crashing to the floor. Still, he slept. "What happened to him?" Janeway demanded. "I don't know," Icheb admitted. "He was alert when the ships began docking." Janeway's irritation evaporated. "What have you seen?" Icheb pointed to the screen. Nearly a dozen of the smaller ships were now partially merged with the spines of the Node ship, and more were arriving. "The sensors are still processing the data. I did detect increases in the extreme low frequency ranges." "Let me see." Janeway stepped over Harry, leaving him alone for the moment, to view the results. "Those bands affect sleep, don't they?" She tapped her combadge. "Janeway to the Doctor." "Yes, Captain?" "Have you received any reports in the last five minutes?" "Negative. Anything I should be aware of?" Janeway looked down at the slumbering Harry. "Perhaps. Lock on to Lieutenant Kim and beam him to Sickbay. I want to know why he's asleep at his post." *** The Indigo Dawn pack vessel had come farther than most, but had made good time. "We're queued ahead of Auburn Tsunami and Virulent Dew," Zam, the Zvir of Indigo Dawn, reported. Skohl, the Adimh, set down his mug of jiopol and turned to his Zvir. "Excellent. Is the pack ready?" he asked. "As we'll ever be," replied Zam, his Zvir. "This had better be good." "The Adimha wouldn't be summoning us if it weren't." The name silenced all murmuring. Sycorax, Adimha of the Management Cadre, was a legend even among the most ambitious, thrill-seeking male. If she were the author of the Summoning, it would be good. Good indeed. "We are in range for docking," the Ship Mind announced. "Take us in," Skohl ordered. "All hands, prepare for uplink. The Realm awaits. If it isn't beyond your wildest dreams, I'll upload myself." He rubbed the tattoos on his right shoulder; at a mere twenty-eight, he had a few good cycles left, even though he was fast running out of unmarked skin. If the celebrated Skohl was betting against early retirement, his crew saw, they had every reason to be enthused for what awaited them. * * * Sycorax, Adimha of the Management Cadre, had a good idea what motivated the males. At 120 cycles of age, she had dealt with more than her share of the young, arrogant pups. It was her corner of the Realm that the various packs found themselves welcomed to. Flanked by winged females, each of a plumpness perfectly suited to the tastes of each young warrior, the males were carried into an arena filled with delicacies, diversions--and still more females. Sycorax had a flair for detail that prompted some males to briefly wonder if the rigors of Realtime were as superior to the Realm as they had believed. Granted, few glimpses of the Realm compared to this. Then again, few held such sway as Sycorax. Skohl's men grinned widely when their uplink was complete. For the moment, the Adimh's position was quite safe. After what seemed an eternity of amusements and indulgences, the last of the Pack vessels had docked with the Node ship, and the crews linked to the Realm, and Sycorax could begin this conference in earnest. The women and the food and the sofas disappeared, replaced by hard stone benches. The men of Realtime were also surprised to see their attire transformed from the distinctive Pack designs to a single pattern of gleaming black battle leather. Their tattoos glowed a fierce red. It was disconcerting to have one's appearance changed so abruptly. The stripping away of visible Pack identity also took a few of them aback. But when Sycorax appeared, all else became irrelevant. Her bulk was breathtaking--a full quarter-ton of mass. She shone in the center of the giant arena like a small star. Her golden sofa kept her aloft. She was circled, slowly and at a respectable distance, by nine winged females, each cherubic in figure and clothed in a different colored garment. The third closest to her was dressed in a brilliant blue; the fourth, a fiery red. If the Arena was the universe, Sycorax was its center. All revolved around her. It was right out of their earliest myths. "We have met the Enemy," Sycorax said. Her voice was soft and low, but each syllable resonated through the Arena and its startled audience like rolling thunder. Voyager! l Someone from the Rolling Thunder pack began to chant.A few picked up on it and slowly the chant rose in pitch and intensity. Voyager! Voyager! Sycorax smiled.Voyager, indeed.Let the pups believe what they wanted, as long as it suited her purposes. She let the chanting continue until all joined in. "Voyager is of the Enemy," Sycorax said. "But the heart of the Enemy is elsewhere." The arena shifted. Sycorax and her nine attending females began to shrink. Other females began to appear--dozens, then hundreds...then billions. Each group of females represented a pattern which the males soon discerned as star systems. Suns and planets and moons. Soon the arena was filled with a galaxy of plump, perfect females, a spinning, brilliant infinite mass of femininity. Slowly the scene shifted back. Women disappeared--by the dozen, by the star system. Soon, all that remained was Sycorax and the Nine. The female in blue was glowing brilliantly, and on her dress could be seen a mass of green and brown--continents, cities. People. The Enemy. "This is their home world. This is your quest! To leave the confines of the Bubble and wreak vengeance on the Enemy!" The males were stunned into silence. Even in the Realm, their minds could process information only so quickly. The eldest males caught on first. First the Adimhs. Then the Zvirs. Then the lowly Strups. Battle--of a degree none had ever imagined possible. Not even the Legends had told of such glorious adventures! And to face the Enemy, to strike at its very heart! The Arena erupted into cheers, chants, war-whoops. This was a mission to remember. Sycorax was satisfied. The males were so predictable. "We have a new weapon," she said next. "You will have all the battles you desire, but for taking on the Enemy in their planets, you will need more. This weapon has been based on technology too terrible to use for thousands of cycles, but the time has come. We shall rain death upon them until the Enemy is no more!" The cheers were deafening. Sycorax smiled, and her radiance shone its approval, causing their armor and their tattoos to glow with demonic intensity. *** Harry's snores had been resonating in Sickbay for nearly an hour when Janeway and Chakotay arrived. "Do you have anything?" The captain asked. "A migraine," the Doctor said irritably. "About Harry's condition?" Janeway asked again, her tone crisp. Doc coughed. "Sorry. Yes, it would seem that Lieutenant Kim's condition and the activity of the Sernaix are related." He pulled up a view on the console by Harry's bed. "Icheb was correct; the increase in the Delta and Theta bands produced by those ships are significant. More to the point, I'm detecting the same levels in Lieutenant Kim's sleep patterns. I have been unable to revive him." "Would it be dangerous to try?" Doc shrugged. "He doesn't appear to be in any danger at the moment. If anything, the rest is doing him good. His systems were showing signs of extreme fatigue." Janeway considered this. "Keep watching him. Inform me immediately of any change. Keep an open channel to Astrometrics; if the Sernaix activities mirror Harry's condition, I want to know about it." Janeway considered her next question. The crew had been impacted once before by a neurogenic field that put them all to sleep. Harry had been one of the first casualties then as well. "Has anyone else been affected?" she asked. "All hands have reported in. Those off duty shift were awakened just to be certain; aside from some burning ears, everyone's fine." "And Seven of Nine?" Janeway asked. "Regenerating, as ordered. I'm monitoring her from here. She exhibited some elevated Theta levels, but nothing out of the ordinary given her fatigue." The comm system chirped. "Astrometrics to the Captain." "Janeway here. What is it, Icheb?" "The Sernaix vessels are starting to detach from the Node ship." "Thank you, Icheb. Keep this line open." She looked toward the Doctor. "Watch Harry's condition." Janeway and Chakotay stepped back to let the Doctor do his work. "I am seeing a decrease in the Delta and Theta bands," he said. Janeway walked over to Harry and softly shook him. "Harry--can you hear me?" Harry's slumbering continued. "Icheb, how many vessels are still docked?" "Fifteen." She shared a look with the Doctor. "Doctor, tie into the Astrometric sensor stream. Watch Harry's biosigns. Icheb, let us know when each remaining ship disconnects." "Aye, Captain." For several tense moments, Icheb counted down the remaining connections. At eight, Harry began to stir. "Seven," Icheb announced a moment later. "Harry?" Janeway asked again. Harry continued to sleep, but the peaceful expression was fading. His lip quivered, and his head began to shake, as though experiencing a nightmare. "Six," Icheb said. "Harry!" Lieutenant Kim's eyes opened, and he bolted upright, screaming. Janeway placed a hand on his shoulder, but Harry slapped it away, with almost frantic intensity. "Lieutenant Kim!" "Five," Icheb said. Harry's eyes cleared a little. "Captain?" he asked, seeing Janeway for the first time, but still not freed from whatever was haunting his dreams. The images churned in his head. Colors too intense to exist in nature. Women large as planets. Sernaix warriors with glowing tattoos, teeth long as sabers. Evil plans... Janeway breathed easier. "You're in Sickbay, Harry. You lost consciousness when the Sernaix ships began to dock. What happened?" "Aaah!" Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair... "Four." "Captain, the Sernaix--they're going to destroy Earth!" "What? How?" Janeway said. "Three." "I--I don't know. But I saw them! Hundreds of them! They were all together in this--" "Two." "--this...Captain, it's slipping away--" "Harry, try! What did you see?" "The last ships have just undocked, Captain," Icheb reported. Harry's breathing had returned to normal. The panic had left his eyes. "I...I'm not sure, Captain. It was so real, so real...but it--it's gone now. I'm sorry, Captain." Janeway glared up at the Doctor. "Did you get anything?" Doc looked over the logs. His brow wrinkled. He ran his hands over the controls. After several seconds, he looked at Janeway and shook his head. "Icheb--what are the Sernaix doing now?" "The vessels are forming up around the two battleships. It looks defensive. " Janeway frowned. "Harry--are you certain about the Sernaix? That they're planning to target Earth?" "Captain, I can't back any of this up. I can't even remember the details. But...I'd bet my life on it." You
might well have a bit of Sernaix blood in you after all,
Mr. Kim. You posture just like one of us.
Harry blinked. "Do you have something to say, Lieutenant?" Chakotay asked. Harry shrugged. "It’s probably nothing. I just remembered something Ozymandias said to me. Speaking of which," he said, looking around Sickbay. "How's Seven?" *** Captain's Log, Supplemental. It's not much to go on, but I have no choice but to act on Lieutenant Kim's 'dream' if the safety of Earth is at stake. Seven of Nine reported no similar experience. I know the Sernaix consider us their ancient Enemy--how can we be?--but what I don't know is how they intend to attack Earth--and if they can, how we can stop them. The senior staff assembled in the conference room. They'd been pre-briefed; what Janeway expected was nothing less than six miracles before breakfast. All came ready to offer their thoughts, no matter how crazy. When it came to the Sernaix, there was no such thing as too crazy. Janeway set her empty coffee mug down on the table, then reached for the pot to refill it. The officers observed in silence, using every last second to conjure new ideas for the questions they knew were imminent. Janeway took a sip from the fresh cup, and then leaned back in her chair. "We've been in this bubble for seven months. It's time we left. I want options." A deafening silence followed. "Well, we haven't tried clicking our heels together three times," Tom said. "There's no place...like...home..." The other officers allowed Tom to twist in the wind. Janeway fixed him with a lethal glare until his words trailed off. "Any other suggestions?" Janeway asked. "Or should I replicate the ruby slippers?" The edge of her mouth twitched up just enough to let Tom know he was off the hook. "The Sernaix uplink node," Seven of Nine said. "We may be able to reproduce the Doctor's experiment, and control the exit vector." "Any idea how?" Janeway asked. Seven and the Doctor looked at each other. "Not yet," Doc said. "But we're hopeful that the Ozymandias data will make it possible." Janeway considered this. "I know you're doing your best. Keep at it. But until we actually have access to the data from that shipmind, we'll need another option." Tom broke the silence. "We could always take our chances again with the Ayrethans." Janeway rubbed at her eyes. "They haven't been cooperative before; why would now be any different?" Tom shrugged. "The Ayrethans want to keep everyone inside the bubble. They might have a problem with the Sernaix trying to escape. We know they know more than they're letting on; if it means stopping the Sernaix, they're likely to tell us what we need." "But will they believe us?" Janeway pressed. "They put a lot of stock in dreams," Tom said. "And Harry's got us covered there." "Yeah, but why did it happen to me?" Harry asked. "Seven was linked to the Ship Mind." "Does it matter?" Tom asked. "It matters to me." "Maybe it was just your turn," B'Elanna said. "Perhaps I should attach cortical monitors to Harry AND Seven," the Doctor said. "In case this happens again, we may gain further information." "With the Sernaix flying in formation, further dockings are possible, and could occur at any time," Tuvok agreed. "Whatever caused it, we know it happened," Tom said, eyeing Janeway expectantly, "and we should be able to use that to convince the Ayrethans." Janeway looked at the faces around the table. Tuvok had yet to weigh in. She fixed her gaze on her security chief, with the clear intent to hear his opinion. Tuvok got the message. "Your logic is sound," Tuvok said, raising an eyebrow at Tom a moment later. Tom smiled. "You don't have to look so surprised, Tuvok." "All right," said Janeway. "The Ayrethans it is. Tom, lay in a course." "Doctor, Seven, Harry--keep working on that Sernaix data. Focus on anything we can use to find, figure out, or fight the Sernaix, or get us out of this bubble. I want every detail you can dredge up on those vessels. Icheb can handle Astrometrics for now." "B'Elanna, what's our repair status?" Torres smiled proudly. "All systems optimal." "Good. So there won't be any problems getting us out of the bubble?" "If it can be done, we'll get it done." Janeway smiled. "That's all I can ask. Tom, Tuvok, coordinate with B'Elanna; when we get what we need we'll have to work fast. In the meantime, B'Elanna, sift through that Sernaix debris again and see if anything could be useful." She got the expected nods from both. "Chakotay," she said, "I want you to work with Tuvok on defenses. Study the Sernaix; see if there's a way to use their numbers against them." Chakotay nodded. "Aye, Captain." Janeway leaned back in her chair and took another sip of coffee. It had cooled somewhat, but the bitterness still had the needed edge. She looked around the table. As professional as they were, they were nervous. Hell, so was she. The Sernaix were dangerous enough one ship at a time, and now they faced dozens. They'd been lucky up to now, but now the future of Earth itself could be in jeopardy. But she thought back on all they'd been through. Kazon and Vidiians. Hirogen and Borg and Species 8472. Renegade holograms and the Q Continuum. They'd traversed the galaxy in record time, thwarted temporal terrorists, and merged Starfleet and Maquis into a functioning, cohesive unit. This crew had been to hell and back more times than any crew not serving aboard a ship named Enterprise. If they couldn't save the universe--yet again!--who could? The captain set down her mug and leaned forward, fixing her gaze on each officer. "I know these last months have been a challenge. Seven years in the Delta Quadrant, staring down the Borg, getting within impulse range of Earth only to have it yanked away again. Our nerves have been frayed, our loyalties tested. At times, even our friendships were strained." She noted the shadow of pain that crossed each face, each telling a different story. The captain then smiled in that gentle, motherly way that her crew would move heaven and earth to see. "But we're a team. Even more, we're a family. We've adapted to survive every challenge the universe has thrown at us. As I look around this table, I can't imagine anyone else in your place. There's nobody I'd rather have. We'll get through this--we'll get home, and we'll save home--as we always have. Together." Then she rose. "Dismissed." *** A few night-shift personnel were having dinner in the mess hall when Dalby entered, carrying a PADD with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. He found an open space on the sofa facing the window and flopped onto it with a groan. Chell was at his side a moment later. "Raktajino?" Dalby looked up with gratitude filling his bloodshot eyes. "I could kiss you." Chell smirked and pursed his lips. "Hurry up before you start drinking that swill." Dalby chuckled and took a mighty swig. "Maybe next time. Oh, yeah, that hit the spot." Chell looked around; at the moment, everyone was taken care of. He took a seat beside his friend. "Long night?" "Chakotay's beating the bushes for some 'unconventional' tactics against the Sernaix. He thinks a Maquis approach might come in handy." "Any luck so far?" Dalby shook his head, then took another long pull of the raktajino; he shuddered as the liquid blazed a trail to his stomach. "My battle brains are rusty. I tell you, though, I could do it in my sleep if they were the Cardies." Chell frowned. "What's the difference?" "For starters, they build ships out of light." Dalby suppressed a smile at Chell's blank expression. "I don't understand it either. I don't care how it's made; I just want to blow it to hell. Thing is, how do you blow up light?" "Ummm...with dark?" Dalby's eyes widened. Dark matter? Now there was an idea. Insane, yes; suicidal, maybe, but--well, Chakotay did ask for unconventional. "What the hell," he said, and wrote it down. "Got any dark matter in that kitchen of yours?" he asked. "Just some of Neelix's leftover leola root." Dalby winced. "I wouldn't even use that stuff against the Cardies.&quo |