Myriad Universes - Infinity's Prism Part 15

"Like it or not, we're part of this region now. We no longer have the luxury of pretending the Delta Quadrant is a place we're just pa.s.sing through. We're here for good-or at least for the foreseeable future."

"Just as you wanted," she said, her voice hardening, though she regretted letting the words out.

Typically, though, Chakotay didn't rise to the bait. "I never wanted this. But I understand it, Kathryn. As a Maquis, as an Indian, I know what it's like to be out in the cold without a powerful nation to support you. I know that following your own rules stringently is a luxury of those with the authority to enforce them. When you're powerless in someone else's culture, you have to adapt to survive.

"For three years, we've managed to get by without needing to learn that lesson. But now our free ride has ended. We're at the Vostigye's mercy. And given what many of their neighbors are like, that's probably the safest place for us under the circ.u.mstances."

"But at what cost, Chakotay? They wouldn't let us stay together as a crew. We'd be scattered across dozens of ships and star systems. What if..." What if we stop thinking of ourselves as a crew? What if some of my people decide they like living here? What if I never see them again?

She cleared her throat. "And you said it yourself-there's a lot of intolerance toward outsiders."

"Only among some segments of the population. They seem numerous because they're politically vocal and active. But most of the Vostigye I've met have been kind, open-minded people. Their values aren't that different from ours; they just have a few outstanding issues they haven't settled yet. That's true even of the Federation," he reminded her. She knew he was referring to the "issues" that had led to the formation of the Maquis.

Janeway turned back to the window, hesitant to let him see the sadness, the defeat, in her expression. "If I give in to this, Chakotay...I'm admitting I failed. I'm saying to my crew that I can't get them home again. If I do that, is there even any point in rebuilding Voyager?"

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and it soothed even as his words burned. "Don't see it as a failure, Kathryn. This can be a new beginning for Voyager's crew. The chance to explore a rich Delta Quadrant society up close, from the inside. The chance to help build a new coalition that can defend against the Borg and Species 8472. Maybe a new community as well."

Janeway sighed. What were the chances of building such a coalition if her people had no standing in the region's society, no ship to offer for its defense? How safe would Vostigye s.p.a.ce be in a few months, when the nearby war ended?

She straightened, firming her resolve. She would have to try, no matter the odds. She was still a Starfleet captain, and she would hold on to that even if she lost everything else. At the very least, she would do what she could to defend these people from invasion.

But no matter what Chakotay said, these were not her people, and this was not her home. Someday, no matter what it took, she would get Voyager flying again, rea.s.semble her crew, and resume course for the Alpha Quadrant.

But how many of the crew would join her when the time came?

Part Two August-November 2374

3.

"Lieutenant Kim, report to command deck."

Harry didn't feel like getting out of bed. He'd woken up early, surprised when he'd rolled over and collided with a warm nude body. His lover usually left well before he woke up. Even in sleep, she was tense and aloof, jabbing him with an elbow and rolling away. But with a little more delicacy, he'd managed to get an arm around her, and eventually she'd relaxed against him. He'd been so content just spooning that he'd lost track of time. He wanted to stay that way forever.

But there was that t.i.tle: Lieutenant Kim. True, it was just how his translator rendered the Vostigye rank, but for all practical purposes, he was a lieutenant at last. And he'd worked d.a.m.n hard to earn it, harder than most because he'd had the "refugee" stigma to overcome. Now he'd gained a position of trust on Ryemaren's bridge crew, one not unlike his post on Voyager, but with opportunities for advancement he never would have had on that ship. He couldn't let his captain and colleagues down by blowing off a duty shift.

So he reluctantly pulled himself away from his lover, taking a moment to admire the deceptively delicate contours of her back, its smoothness so unusual for those of her heritage. Then he went into the 'fresher for a quick sonic shower.

It came as an even greater surprise when, a moment later, the door opened and she came in. "Mind if I join you?" B'Elanna's voice was no more expressive than usual, a disinterested monotone barely audible over the shower's hum, but the gesture itself was extraordinary. He knew full well that she had turned to him merely for comfort, for distraction from her grief at losing Tom Paris before she'd even admitted her love for him. Her lovemaking was hungry, needy, but detached and impersonal, and often he derived more gratification from the belief that he was helping to ease her pain than he did from the s.e.x itself. But Harry accepted it because he needed comfort and distraction as well. Even this tenuous, frustrating thing that he could barely call a relationship was a link to the life he'd known, a reminder of the friendship he and B'Elanna Torres had shared for three years.

But for B'Elanna to stay the night, even to seek out further intimacy in the morning, was remarkable. As she slipped into the tight shower cubicle and pulled his head down into a kiss, he cursed the timing of it. This could be a breakthrough, and he had to shoot it down, not knowing if it would ever come again. "I'd love to," he said softly into her ear. "But they need me on the bridge."

"Call in sick. Just this once. You've earned it by now."

"Voenis would kill me. She'd kill both of us if she found out why I skipped school."

"I don't care."

That was exactly the problem. Getting B'Elanna to care about most anything seemed a hopeless task. She was lackl.u.s.ter in her duties, insubordinate, and this close to getting kicked out of the Vostigye s.p.a.ce service. Harry's influence was the only thing that kept her in line.

He kissed her ridged forehead and stepped out of the booth. "I do. About you. I won't be responsible for getting you in more trouble."

"Because Harry Kim always has to do what's right."

The anger was the most expression he'd heard in her voice for some time. It was downright gratifying. "I try my best. But I want to do what's right for you too. We can talk about it tonight, okay?"

She gave him a look he couldn't fathom. "We all try to do what's right, Harry," she murmured. "Remember that."

Then she closed the shower door and left him with his confusion.

"Mister Kim, identify the intruder."

Harry Kim fed the readings on the unfamiliar ship into Ryemaren's computer. The answer came back in the Vostigye script and language that he'd mastered over the past six months. "The ship is of unknown origin. But the life signs read as Casciron."

"Casciron," Captain Nagorim muttered in a resigned tone. They were a people Ensign Kim of Voyager had never met, but Lieutenant Kim of the Vostigye border patrol was a veteran of multiple encounters. Their homeworld had fallen prey to the Etanian Order, conquerors who staged natural disasters to drive out or kill off the populations of planets they wanted for their own. Voyager had saved the Nezu from the Etanians last year, but the Casciron had not been so lucky. Like many refugees, they came to the Vostigye Union hoping to benefit from its prosperity, strength, and legal protections, only to find that earning those protections could be...complicated. Especially in the Casciron's case.

Nagorim opened a channel. "Casciron vessel, this is Captain Azorav Nagorim of the Union patrol craft Ryemaren. You are violating Vostigye s.p.a.ce. Power down your engines and await inspection." His tone was firm but devoid of malice.

A Casciron appeared on the round viewscreen-tall, intimidating, with deep gray, glossy skin that reminded Harry of a shark. "Vostigye vessel. We are here by accident. We seek the nearest border outpost to request entry through proper channels. But our navigation system failed."

"What a novel excuse," muttered Morikei Voenis, Nagorim's first officer, a russet-furred female who had little patience with refugees.

"Casciron do not deceive!" the alien shot back. "We may have no world, but we have our pride."

"Tell that to the Vostigye whose habitats have been raided by your pirates!"

"From what I'm reading, Captain," Harry said, "their sensors and computers are in pretty bad shape. I doubt they could navigate except by looking out a window. And that K-cla.s.s-sorry, Mol-cla.s.s star they're aimed for is a near-perfect match for the star the border outpost orbits. They could've made an honest mistake." Voenis glared at him. He had earned her grudging respect through months of skilled service, even saved her life at Calentar, but she still disliked being undermined on the command deck-at least by a refugee. Harry had hoped she had outgrown seeing him that way, but it seemed he still had more work to do.

"If you would inspect us, then proceed. We have nothing to hide, and little time to spare."

"You don't have much life support, either," Harry said. "And your engines are falling apart. You won't make it much farther."

"Mind your place, Lieutenant," Voenis told him.

"Voenis," the captain cautioned. "Casciron ship, we must board you for inspection and escort you to the border outpost for processing. If all is in order, we will a.s.sist you in repairing your life-support systems."

"It seems we have little choice." The Casciron bowed formally. "You are invited to visit our territory."

"Their territory," Voenis scoffed.

"Mister Kim, would you like to lead the boarding party?" Nagorim asked.

"Aye, sir. Request that the AMP and...and Ensign Torres accompany me."

Nagorim threw him an amused look. "Now, Harry. You know ship's policy about favoritism."

Harry blushed. "It's not that, sir. Their power systems employ chromodynamic plasma technology. I happen to know that Ensign Torres has extensive firsthand experience with that technology." Strictly speaking, she had only encountered it once, during her abduction by the Pralor Automated Personnel Units over two years ago. But those circ.u.mstances had demanded that she become an expert in record time. And it couldn't hurt to pad her resume a little, Harry thought.

"Very well," Nagorim said. "a.s.semble your team."

"I should lead the team, sir," Voenis said.

"Your reasons?" Nagorim asked.

"The team leader should have experience dealing with the Casciron in person, not from behind a console."

The captain gave Harry an infinitesimal look of apology. "Very well. Report for teleportation."

Voenis led Harry from the command deck and through Ryemaren's upward-curving corridors. The Vostigye ships were cylindrical, with gravity pulling outward from the central axis, like their habitats in miniature. Even after four months, Harry still felt as if he were living in a giant hamster wheel. At least the gravity came from AG plating instead of the centrifugal effect; the necessary rotation for a ship this small would have been dizzying even for the Vostigye. And mercifully, the gravity was kept below Vostigye standard for the benefit of alien crew.

But Harry still had to push himself to keep up with Voenis and confront her. "You still don't trust me."

She paused. "It's her I don't trust. Or your judgment concerning her."

"B'Elanna's had a rough time. She lost a lot of people she cared about." And one she loved.

"And you let her take it out on you. I've seen your injury reports."

"It's not like that. Klingons are just...enthusiastic about..."

Voenis rolled her eyes at his hesitation. "Refugees. Why can't you just say 's.e.x' when you mean 's.e.x'? Listen. I understand you find comfort and familiarity in her. But you know where she stands on the Casciron issue. Can I trust her to do her duty?"

"Has she ever given you reason not to?"

She had no response. "Very well. But you vouch for her at your own risk, and I wish you could see that. You're not like her-you have a future here." She leaned in closer. "I tell you this as a friend," she whispered, as though such friendship were a dirty secret. "Break with her before she pulls you down with her."

Ryemaren's transporter delivered them efficiently to the Casciron ship-as well it should, since it was based on Voyager's technology. Voenis, wary of trusting anything from refugees, didn't relax until she materialized safely. Except she didn't relax much, given the approaching party of large, powerful Casciron. Well, large Casciron. Harry could see they moved slowly and were gaunt from hunger.

"I am Danros, commander of this vessel." The speaker and those accompanying him crossed their arms over their chests in greeting, the left wrist clasped beneath the right hand. Harry knew the gesture was meant to show that the large, venomous stingers extending from their left wrists were being withheld from use. "I extend welcome to the guests in our territory."

"How touching," Voenis said. "Except that you're in our territory, and that entails certain rules. You know those venom glands will have to be removed."

Harry felt B'Elanna bristling beside him. The treatment of the Casciron refugees was the one thing that she ever seemed to get pa.s.sionate about, her old Maquis spirit rallying against what she perceived as the oppression of a vulnerable people. He clasped her hand to restrain her. But Danros saved her the trouble. "And you know that is an act of mutilation that offends the Allfather. Must we become less than we are simply to live in your territory?"

"The law requires you to disarm. To live in our territory, you must obey the same laws that apply to everyone else."

"Everyone else is not required to undergo mutilation."

"For what it's worth," came a new voice, "the literature says the procedure is quick and relatively painless. But then, that's what they used to say about circ.u.mcision." Harry still did a double take whenever he heard the Doctor's sardonic voice coming from the mechanical body of the ship's auxiliary medical probe. Finding the EMH too useful to limit to one ship, the Vostigye had uploaded him into their integrated medical network, giving him control over all the robotic AMPs. Essentially, he now existed within several hundred bodies simultaneously.

"Look, we can debate all this later," B'Elanna said. "Right now we've got a life-support system to fix, right?"

"We have an inspection to perform," Voenis corrected. "The life support will last that long, at least." From her tone, she was skeptical that the ship had malfunctioned at all.

But B'Elanna's tests of the vessel's navigation and sensor systems bore out the Casciron's story. So Voenis allowed her and Harry to begin repairs on life support and the Doctor (or a Doctor) to tend to their malnutrition while she continued the inspection. "Thanks," Harry told B'Elanna as they worked.

"For what?"

"For not getting into that argument back there. Focusing on the work."

She bristled. "You think I can't resist an argument, even when there are lives at stake?"

Harry refrained from pointing out that her reaction didn't do much to refute that. "I'm just saying it was a good call. For you as well as the Casciron. Maybe it'll help you gain some respect in Voenis's eyes."

"Like I want respect from her."

"Like it or not, she's our superior officer now, and it doesn't do any good to antagonize her." He leaned in closer. "She's not as bad as you think. She has her prejudices, sure, but I think she's willing to outgrow them. She even called me a friend today."

"Sure. She'd call you a friend. You're the nice refugee, the one who tries to fit in and doesn't make waves."

"I'm trying to set a positive example. To show that refugees can be just as civilized and responsible as anyone else. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong is that there's so much going on that we should not be complacent about. When people like you a.s.similate so smoothly, it makes it easier for them to pretend there aren't critical problems to be solved."

He strove for calm reason to temper her anger, although it was refreshing to see her getting animated about something. "I think that if we earn their respect as civilized people, they'll be more willing to listen to our concerns."

"We've tried that. Chakotay and Neelix have been trying for months. And Casciron are still getting mutilated, stripped of something sacred to them."

"There are Vostigye trying to change those laws too. But it's hard for them to get enough votes when the Casciron keep raiding border outposts."

"Sometimes you have to fight back against an injustice, Harry."

Harry was losing patience at the old argument. "Don't give me that n.o.ble Maquis speech again. The truth is, you're just looking for an excuse to keep fighting. It's been seven months, B'Elanna! Tom wouldn't want you to keep tearing yourself up-"

"Don't make this about him!" she roared, startling him. "You let go if you want. Let go of your friends, your crew, the Alpha Quadrant, your principles. But you'll be letting go of me too."

"What are you saying?"

"I hoped I could talk some sense into you before it was too late, maybe even get you to go along with me. I hoped at least I could get you to be off duty when this happened. But it's obvious I don't have a chance. Keep being a good Vostigye soldier, Harry-maybe it'll keep them from blaming you for this."

"For what? Go along where?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry. You were a good friend when I needed one, but honestly..." She sucked in a shuddering breath. "You're better off without me."

"B'Elanna!"

She activated her wrist communicator. "Torres to Ryemaren computer. Initiate sequence Maquis Alpha."

"No!"

Harry's cry died out as the Casciron ship dissolved around him and Ryemaren's transporter room took its place. Voenis was at his side, looking around sharply. "What happened? Where's Torres?"