Prologue

 

 

In a sector of the galaxy where few ships ever traveled, a pinhole opened in the fabric of space. Increasing its diameter exponentially, it soon became a gaping black opening, blotting out the stars behind it. With a blinding flash of light, the hole discharged a sleek black ship, then shrank in size until it was once again a pinhole. A moment later it winked out altogether. The ship moved on, traveling at the equivalent of warp nine, a mere crawl in comparison to its earlier galaxy-spanning speed. It had one more interspace jump to make before emerging in its home sector, and the gate was close by. The ship’s occupants, members of a species known to others in their area as the Sumak, were very pleased with their mission. They’d collected a fine assortment of specimens, and would be well received by their government. They looked forward eagerly to their homecoming.

It was an event they would never experience. The ion storm that had been moving through the sector was undetectable to their sensors until they emerged from the gate. They saw it as soon as they cleared the portal, but by then it was already too late. At warp nine it took them exactly four seconds to slam into the storm. Their ship was well-built and powerful enough to make them invulnerable to nearly every other race in the sector, but that did not matter now. The storm shorted out critical systems, including navigational arrays and power dampeners. Without the dampeners, the main power source immediately overloaded most of the systems, causing catastrophic failure in every section. A series of doors and airlocks opened simultaneously in the belly of the ship, causing an explosive decompression that warped the hull and sent wreckage spinning silently into the depths of space. Crippled, the ship began to tumble as more silent explosions vented equipment, hull sections and crew.

The Sumak could have launched escape pods in two minutes. Their ship was destroyed in less than one. It continued to tumble gently, a graceful dance through space. A few of its systems were still operational, but life support was not one of them. The bodies that floated through what remained of its corridors were beyond any help that might come in response to the ship’s automatic distress beacon, which faithfully but uselessly beamed its message into space. Even if any Sumak had been left alive, they would have known the futility of waiting for rescue. Still one interspace jump from the home sector, the ship’s distress call would dissipate long before it ever reached homeworld.

With only a few systems left intact, the drain on the ship’s power source was now down to a trickle. It could power the remaining systems almost indefinitely, and so the beacon continued to broadcast its message. And in one of the few less-damaged rooms near the center of the ship, a bank of large stasis tubes hummed quietly. Its occupants were oblivious to the chaos that had just ripped the ship apart. They could afford to await rescue for as long as they needed to—even if it took centuries.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 1

 

 

Kathryn Janeway, captain of the Federation starship Voyager, was enjoying a rare moment of tranquil contentment. Slouched in her bridge chair with a PADD in her hand, she was scrolling through the latest report on ship’s operations. Voyager had been traveling through a quiet sector of space for several weeks now, and the crew had not only completed all normal maintenance, but were now actively improving systems and performance. The knowledge that her ship was in absolute top condition gave Janeway a feeling of well-being so strong that it radiated off her. Her first officer, Chakotay, was at close range in his chair and leaned over for a quiet comment.

“You know, you don’t often look that happy while going through departmental reports. Usually you treat them like they were dipped in the waste reclamation sump before landing on your desk.” He was a large, broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a distinctive tribal tattoo on his forehead, which crinkled when he smiled. It was crinkled now.

Janeway looked up from her report. “Well, it’s not often that departmental reports contain so much good news,” she said. “Engine efficiency is now five point three percent higher than maximum, and B’Elanna says here she thinks she can get it to six percent. All of the phaser banks have been cleaned and recalibrated, and the power supply has been realigned. Tuvok calculates that weapons output is now at one hundred percent and is requesting a test to confirm. Seven of Nine says she’s extended long range sensors another two percent, which means that they are now at twelve point eight percent greater than Starfleet specifications. And best of all, Neelix reports that we are now completely out of leola root and requests that we locate another source in order to lay in a new supply.”

Chakotay, who hated leola root as much as the rest of the crew, smiled broadly at the last comment. “Shall I tell Seven to make that her top priority?”

Janeway pretended to seriously consider this suggestion. “No, I think Seven’s time would be put to better use cataloguing every space particle larger than nine microns between here and the Alpha Quadrant. After all, we wouldn’t want to hit anything.”

“Ah, but if she did that she wouldn’t have time to come to the party tonight, and you know how much she would miss that.”

Janeway gave her first officer a mock glare, and they both laughed. Seven detested parties as much as the rest of the crew disliked leola root. Both the Doctor and Janeway had tried their best to help her learn the fine art of socializing, and Seven had made excellent progress, but she still considered parties to be a great waste of otherwise useful time. Janeway sometimes thought that if she could ever teach Seven to relax, her job as mentor would be complete. She didn’t expect that to happen before the next twenty years or so.

“So, who are you going to come as?” asked Janeway. Early in their travels, Voyager had taken aboard a Delta Quadrant native who offered to earn his way by working in the mess hall. Despite his universally unpopular cooking, Neelix thought of himself as the ship’s morale officer, and was always finding a new reason for a party. Janeway actively encouraged his efforts, having seen the advantages Neelix’s self-assigned role could offer. Tonight was a celebration of heroes, and the crew were supposed to come dressed as a person they admired greatly and who had influenced their lives or careers in some way.

“Not telling,” said Chakotay. “You’ll just have to guess when you see me. What about you?”

“I’m not telling either, but I’ll give you a hint. It’s not Leonardo.” It was well known that Leonardo da Vinci was one of Janeway’s heroes, but she thought it would be far too easy to use him.

Chakotay snorted. “Too bad. You’d look great with a bushy gray beard.”

Janeway opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted by Ensign Harry Kim, manning the ops board. “Captain, we’ve just received a distress beacon. It’s automated.”

All levity vanished as both Janeway and Chakotay sat up straight in their chairs. “Distance?” Janeway’s voice was crisp.

“Point zero eight light years; two hours at current speed.”

“Any ships in the area?” This question was not meant to determine whether another ship might get there earlier. Voyager had been attacked enough times and in enough ways by now that Janeway was wary of anything that might remotely be a trap.

“None within sensor range.”

“All right. Continue monitoring for any energy signals or emissions that could indicate engine activity. Mr. Paris, increase speed to warp eight and alter heading to the coordinates Mr. Kim is sending.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Tom Paris.

“Janeway to sickbay.”

“Yes, Captain,” came the Doctor’s voice.

“Doctor, we have received a distress beacon and will be at the source in less than one hour.”

“Understood. I’ll be ready for any casualties.”

The atmosphere on the bridge was tense for the next forty-five minutes, as the crew waited to see what would unfold. Sometimes a distress beacon led to nothing at all; just a transmitter floating in space. Sometimes it was a trap. And sometimes it meant caring for casualties and helping with repairs as Voyager’s crew carried out one of their principal mission objectives, to offer aid when needed. But the best times were when a beacon led to discoveries, either sociological or technological. Janeway always hoped for the last option, since exploration was her first and strongest love.

When the source of the beacon came within visual range, Harry Kim put it up on the main viewer. It was immediately obvious that caring for casualties and making repairs were not on the agenda today. The ship they saw tumbling slowly through space was little more than an aggregation of metal alloys, held together by the thinnest thread of structural integrity. It looked as though it had been chewed up and spit out by something very large.

“Captain, energy dissipation readings show that whatever happened here, happened a long time ago,” said Harry. “That ship has been dead in space for nearly four hundred years.”

The bridge crew watched the ship in silence. Nobody who traveled through space could be unaffected by the sight of such destruction. Voyager, for all of her sophisticated systems and well-trained crew, was not immune to the dangers of the universe, and all who lived aboard her knew the risks. It was always sobering to see another ship that had run those same risks and not survived.

Harry’s console beeped, and Janeway turned to see him quickly punching in commands. “Mr. Kim?” she prompted.

Harry finished his double-checking and looked up in slack-jawed astonishment. “I’m reading a life sign on board that ship. It’s faint, but it’s there. And Captain—it’s Human.”

 

 

-----

 

 

The senior staff had convened in the conference room to discuss the situation. Rumors that a Human life sign had been detected had already spread to every corner of the ship, and the conference room was buzzing with it. Janeway actually had to raise her voice to call the meeting to order.

“All right, people, we have a lot to do here,” she said. The room immediately quieted and all heads turned toward her expectantly. “Seven, do you recognize that ship? Can you tell us anything about it?”

Seven of Nine had spent most of her life as a Borg, having been assimilated at the age of six. Until Janeway had severed her from the Collective less than two years ago, the tall blond had known nothing of individual will. Since then, she often gave the impression that acquisition of individuality was highly overrated, and her time with the Borg was to be preferred. Certainly her experiences in the Collective had given her a vast depth of knowledge, which Janeway often used to Voyager’s advantage.

Tilting her optical implant toward the captain, Seven answered in her normal dispassionate voice. “No, Captain. The Borg have no memory of this species, although they have been through this sector. Judging by the technology aboard the ship, this was an advanced species and one the Borg would certainly have assimilated had they known about it. Somehow they avoided detection.”

“Well, that alone makes them worthy of our respect,” said Janeway. Seven raised her eyebrow, but made no further comment. Janeway shifted her attention to the ship’s half-Klingon engineer. “B’Elanna, what are your thoughts regarding the stability of that ship? Can we get an away team on board?”

“I think so, yes,” answered B’Elanna Torres. “There’s no life support or gravity, and scans show that whatever equipment generated it has been destroyed, so the team will have to suit up. The biggest issue is going to be stabilizing the ship. We’ll have to use the tractor beam to stop the tumble, and that hulk is in such bad shape that we have very little margin of error. Any more force than necessary and the whole thing is going to fly apart.”

“But you can stop it.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes, Captain.”

“All right. Doctor, you’ve examined the sensor readings. Do you have any theories?”

The Doctor cleared his throat, unnecessarily since he was a hologram, and spoke. “The life signs are faint but stable. Too stable, in fact, given the condition of the ship. I think we’re looking at a long-term stasis situation.”

“Which complicates things,” interjected B’Elanna. “Since we can’t create an atmosphere over there, we’re going to have to remove the stasis equipment, transfer it to a portable power source, and bring it over here before we can thaw whoever is in there.”

Janeway nodded. “Is there anything else we need to be thinking about before moving on this?”

“Well, I, for one, would like to examine that stasis system,” said the Doctor. “Starfleet stasis technology is nowhere near the level of development that this must be. Unless that equipment was installed after the ship was destroyed, which I highly doubt, then it has remained stable for nearly four hundred years. If any of the technology is compatible or convertible, this could be an important discovery.”

“Agreed.” Voyager had encountered long term stasis technology before, but it had never been adaptable to their systems. “Tuvok, do you foresee any threat to Voyager if we attempt this rescue?”

“Not at this time, Captain,” answered the Vulcan security chief. “Mr. Kim’s sensors continue to show no evidence of any other ships in the area. If the distress beacon has indeed been broadcasting for four hundred years, it is likely that any attention it attracted would have arrived here long before now. In my estimate, the greatest danger is likely to come from the ship itself, given its fragile condition. I would recommend that several security personnel accompany the away team to watch for hazards while the others work.”

“I agree. Choose your personnel and have them ready as soon as possible. B’Elanna, you and Seven are in charge of stabilizing the ship. As soon as that’s done, I want you both on the away team. Doctor, you’re on the team as well. Before you go, have a stasis tube ready in sickbay just in case anything goes wrong and we have to do a direct transport. B’Elanna, take as many of the engineering crew as you think you may need to remove the stasis equipment, but don’t bring them on until you know it’s necessary. Seven and Harry, I want you to examine any parts of the ship’s computer that may still be functioning. I’d like to know more about the race that built that ship and how it was destroyed. And I’d especially like to know how the hell a Human got on board.” Janeway rose from her chair, ending the meeting. “Let’s go, people.”

 

 

-----

 

 

B’Elanna and Seven of Nine had run several sets of calculations before settling on the appropriate angles and power settings they’d need to stabilize the ship. Normally Tuvok would operate the tractor beam, but given the delicate situation, he had turned his tactical board over to B’Elanna. Seven of Nine stood at the science station, monitoring readouts and ready to step in should anything unexpected occur during the operation. Forty-five minutes after the staff meeting, B’Elanna announced that they were ready to begin.

“Tom, move us parallel to the ship and match its course and speed,” said Janeway. Tom’s fingers danced over the control pad, and Voyager gracefully slipped into position.

“Course and speed matched,” said Tom.

“Engaging tractor beam,” said B’Elanna. Everyone watched the viewscreen as Voyager’s blue tractor beam lanced out and touched the derelict ship, each impact of the beam lasting only a fraction of a second. The ship’s tumble gradually slowed, and after a dozen more impacts, it stopped altogether.

“The ship is stabilized,” announced B’Elanna with satisfaction.

“Excellent work,” said Janeway. She spoke to the comm system as B’Elanna and Seven headed for the turbolift. “Janeway to Kim. The ship is stabilized, and B’Elanna and Seven are on their way down.”

“Understood,” came Harry’s reply. “We’re all suited up and ready to go as soon as they get here.”

Janeway had to force herself not to drum her fingers on her armrests as she waited the interminable ten minutes for B’Elanna and Seven to get to the transporter room and suit up. The call came none too soon for her. “Transporter Room Three to the captain. The away team is ready for transport.”

“Do it,” said Janeway. She looked at Chakotay. “Time to see what’s over there.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 2

 

 

Eight transporter beams appeared in an open section of the derelict ship, the safest place that the transporter operator could locate. When they dissipated, B’Elanna, the Doctor, Harry and Seven immediately began scanning the area. B’Elanna finished first and spoke through the comm system in her suit. “The life sign is twelve meters above us and two hundred meters to the left. We may have a bit of a crawl to get there.”

Seven snapped her tricorder shut. “I’m detecting an energy reading from what may be a computer terminal on this deck. I suggest we access that terminal first before attempting to locate the bridge.”

“I’ve got it,” said Harry, looking at his tricorder. “It’s not far, but getting anywhere at all on this heap of metal is going to be a challenge.” The away team gazed at their surroundings in some awe. The inside of the ship was in no better shape than the outside. If there had been rooms and corridors, they were now unrecognizable. All that the away team could see in any direction was chaos, with beams, pipes and wiring piled in heaps and crossing every space. The area where they’d been deposited was one of the few places where they could stand upright, and even here they had to watch out for the loose debris, which floated everywhere. There were also a few bodies to be seen, hovering between what was left of the deck and the ceiling. The aliens had been short, with long, bulbous arms and legs. Their arms ended not in hands, but in modified pincers. One alien was turned toward them, its face tight with hundreds of vertical wrinkles creasing the gray skin.

“Not very attractive, were they?” said B’Elanna.

The Doctor gave her a dismissive look and moved over to examine the nearest alien. He passed his tricorder down the body, looked at the readings, and said, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. They had an extremely interesting physiology—I wouldn’t mind examining one in more detail.”

“Later, Doctor,” said B’Elanna. “We need to find the live body before worrying about the dead ones.” Activating her comm system, she contacted the ship. “Torres to Voyager.”

“Go ahead, B’Elanna,” Janeway’s voice answered.

“Captain, we’ve located the life sign and a possible computer terminal, but they’re in opposite directions. We’ll have to split the team, and travel through this ship is going to be arduous. It may take a while before we have anything to report.”

“Understood. Contact us when you have anything. In the meantime, we’re maintaining transporter locks on you just in case.”

“Yes, Captain.” She looked around at the team. “Everybody got that?” The other members of the team nodded. “Good. Okay, looks like this is where we wave goodbye. Let’s check in with each other every fifteen minutes.” She didn’t bother to assign the four security personnel, knowing that they would already have their orders from Tuvok. Indeed, as she and the Doctor moved away, two security members immediately flanked them, one in front and one at the rear, while the other two moved off with Harry and Seven. Although Tuvok’s unflappable calm sometimes drove B’Elanna crazy, she had to admit that he was the best security chief she could ever imagine working with. She never had to think about security—it just happened.

An hour later, all she was thinking about was how hot and frustrated she felt. Harry and Seven had reached their goal in short order, managed to power up the computer terminal, and were now reporting progress in translating the language. Meanwhile, she was still clambering around in an atmospheric suit that was designed to compensate for any type of outside environment, but wasn’t as efficient at regulating its interior environment. She was sweating from the effort of crawling over, under and around debris in her bulky suit and gravity boots, and their progress had been maddeningly slow. It didn’t help that the Doctor, unencumbered by any suit, was moving lightly and still looking as fresh as if he’d just come off a round of golf in the holodeck. He vanished around a pile of beams and B’Elanna clumped after him, muttering a string of Klingon curses. Rounding the beams, she nearly crashed into the Doctor’s back. With a particularly colorful curse, she stepped out from behind him and found why he’d stopped. Her frustration vanished immediately.

They were standing in the largest open space they’d seen since leaving the beam-in point. The room had been heavily damaged, but the destruction was less here than elsewhere on the ship. Two walls still stood, both lined with stasis tubes that seemed to be intact. The first tube on the opposite wall had blinking lights above it, but the rest were all dark. The other two walls of the room were strung out in pieces, with some parts still attached to the room’s framework while others floated, moored by cables and wiring to the still-intact sections. The tubes that had been on these destroyed walls were all damaged, and B’Elanna could glimpse mummified remains still strapped inside. The Doctor was already kneeling beside the closest one, running his medical tricorder over the occupant. He straightened and touched his comm badge.

“Doctor to Voyager.”

“Janeway here. Go ahead, Doctor.”

“Captain, we’ve reached the source of the life sign. There appear to be forty or more intact stasis tubes, and many more that are broken. I’ve just examined the remains of one occupant. It was an adult male Cardassian.”

Shocked, B’Elanna moved over to another broken tube and looked inside. She didn’t need a medical tricorder to see the distinctive facial and ear structure. “Captain, I’ve just located a Vulcan.”

“And here is a Bolian,” added the Doctor, leaning over a third tube.

There was a momentary pause, and then Janeway’s voice came through. “Doctor, your first priority is to locate whoever’s alive in there and get that tube out. Once we’ve stabilized that individual, we can…catalogue the remaining occupants.”

“Understood. Doctor out.” He and B’Elanna exchanged a look, then began making their way through the debris toward the one operational tube. B’Elanna tried not to focus on the remains visible through the smashed tubes, but it was hard not to be affected by her first sight of Alpha quadrant species since Voyager’s stranding five years earlier. She wondered what Seven and Harry were learning from the ship’s computer.

Reaching the active tube, the Doctor began scanning. He shook his head. “I can’t get any decent readings through the material of the tube,” he said. “The biosign is there and it’s not changing, but I can’t get details on brain activity, heart rate or anything else. Unless we can translate the readout, I won’t know anything at all until we open this tube.”

By now B’Elanna had arrived and was inspecting the equipment. “This is pretty advanced technology. I think we can match the power signature, though, so we can get a portable power source on this.” She walked in front of the next two tubes, looking closely at the wiring, and returned. “Well, I know why there’s only one life sign here.”

“Why?”

“These were designed so that power goes into the first tube on the system, reaches a certain level, and then goes on to the next one. Each tube has a bypass circuit, so if its life support fails, the power that would have gone into it diverts directly to the next tube. The advantage of the system is that if there are any problems with the power source, the tubes will lose power one by one rather than all at once. Kind of hard for the person on the end, but it’s a good way to minimize loss. My guess is that the power source on this ship has been gradually failing, and these tubes have been shutting down one by one. The other bank must have been compromised in some way that caused it to fail earlier; otherwise we’d have someone alive in the first tube on that system as well.”

The Doctor looked concerned. “If that’s true, then this tube has a limited amount of time left. Do you have any idea how long before it fails as well?”

“Not yet. It could be years. Let’s see how Seven and Harry are doing—maybe they’ve got a translation by now.” B’Elanna activated her comm link. “Torres to Kim.”

“Kim here.”

“Harry, we’ve reached the life sign, but we can’t do much with the stasis tube until we can translate the computer system operating it. Are you making any progress?”

“Yes, we’ve accessed the main computer and Seven is downloading data now. I’ll program a tricorder with the translation code and have it beamed over. And B’Elanna—you aren’t going to like what we’ve learned about these aliens.”

B’Elanna looked back at the jumble of broken stasis tubes and their mummified occupants. “No,” she said, “I don’t imagine I will.”

 

 

-----

 

 

The senior staff was assembled once again in the conference room. It had been six hours since B’Elanna had contacted the ship and asked for two engineering staff to beam over with a power converter. One hour ago the team had returned, having successfully removed the stasis tube from the alien ship’s system and downloaded what they could of the database. The tube had been beamed directly to sickbay, where the Doctor was busy preparing to end the tube’s cycle. By now it was well into beta shift, but the other members of the team took only a brief break before returning to share what they’d learned. Janeway didn’t waste any time.

“Harry, Seven, what can you tell us about these aliens?”

Seven spoke first. “They were called the Sumak, Captain. Their homeworld is located approximately twenty thousand light years from here. Their propulsion technology was highly advanced, equivalent to a form of slipstream drive that used marked points of entry and exit. It enabled them to travel all over the galaxy. But they were not explorers so much as…collectors. The stasis tubes contained the results of a collection expedition to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“Collectors? You mean, like the Hirogen?”

“No. They did not hunt. The purpose of collecting other species was for research.”

Harry spoke up. “For lack of a better term, they were scientists, Captain. Their mission was to collect members of sentient lifeforms and return them to their homeworld for governmental research.”

“What kind of research?” asked Chakotay.

“Well, they were apparently a xenophobic species. But instead of just closing off their world and avoiding contact with other races, they took it one step further. They actively collected members of other races in order to test them for intelligence, physical strength, pain tolerance, susceptibility to disease, and several other factors. The purpose was to discover which species had the potential to be a threat to the Sumak.”

“What I don’t get,” said B’Elanna, “is why they bothered to put their collection”—she said the word distastefully—“in stasis tubes. With their propulsion system it was apparently a matter of weeks to get from the Alpha quadrant back to their homeworld. Why not just lock everyone up for a few days and then offload them?”

Seven answered. “Their testing procedures were very rigorous and defined. They did not want members of the ‘collection’ to interact with one another, or to engage in any behaviors that might modify their normal response to the tests.”

Janeway’s jaw was set and her eyes were hard. “How did they go about capturing their prisoners?” she asked. She refused to call them a “collection.”

“Since they were xenophobes, they went to some trouble to avoid detection,” said Harry. “They apparently had a type of cloaking technology, and targeted only those individuals who were alone, with no witnesses nearby. I’m sure that nobody ever knew what happened to these people.”

“Area 51,” said Tom suddenly. Everyone looked at him.

“Care to explain that one, Tom?” asked Chakotay.

“It was a government conspiracy theory in the mid-twentieth century,” Tom said. “For a few decades, people reported seeing alien ships all over North America. Some people even said they’d been captured by aliens, had medical experiments performed on them, and were then released. None of them were ever taken seriously by the scientific community, and the government’s official policy was that no alien ships had ever visited Earth. But there was one rumor that many people did take seriously. The story was that an alien ship had crash-landed at a military facility in the North American desert, and the government had hidden the ship and then denied that anything happened. The military facility was called Area 51. So the name became synonymous with a perceived governmental conspiracy to hide the presence of aliens visiting Earth.”

“It would appear that the ‘rumor’ of Area 51 may have been based in truth,” said Tuvok.

“Do we know what destroyed this ship?” asked Janeway, glancing at the hulk outside the conference room viewports.

“There are no records in the database indicating what happened,” said Seven. “Therefore, whatever occurred most likely demolished the ship instantaneously. Almost all of the ship’s systems were destroyed by a power surge, yet the core power source was not compromised. There are no weapons markings on the ship. I believe it encountered some sort of natural phenomenon which affected its ability to regulate the flow of power through its systems.”

“Perhaps an ion storm,” said Tuvok.

Seven nodded. “That is my guess as well.”

“Can we recover any of the ship’s technology?” Janeway didn’t have much hope, but it was something that always had to be ruled out.

B’Elanna shook her head. “No. There’s nothing intact over there bigger than a spanner, with the exception of the stasis tube room. That seemed to have some protection due to its location in the ship and the fact that the bulkheads were fortified.”

“Why fortify a room holding a bunch of people in stasis?” asked Tom.

Harry answered him. “They seemed to be very concerned with security. Apparently, in addition to being xenophobes, they were also paranoiacs. They didn’t want any of their prisoners getting out of that room.”

Janeway was looking grim. “How many prisoners were there?”

B’Elanna checked a tricorder. “According to the Doctor, there were eighty-four individuals representing nearly all of the Alpha quadrant races: Andorian, Bajoran, Betazoid, Bolian, Breen, Cardassian, Human, Klingon, Nausicaan, Romulan, Trill, and Vulcan.” She looked up. “About the only species they seem to have missed is the Ferengi.”

“They probably bargained their way out of capture,” said Tom. But his joke fell flat; Janeway gave him an unamused glare and then moved on.

“That brings us to a rather difficult question,” she said. “How do we honor the dead?”

The room went silent for a moment. The staff had been so busy gathering data and dealing with the immediate tasks that this thought hadn’t occurred to them.

“Destroy the ship,” said Tuvok. All heads swiveled toward him. Some faces registered astonishment and dismay; B’Elanna’s expression was approving.

“Why?” asked Janeway.

“It is the only logical choice. There are representatives of twelve Alpha quadrant species, all with different traditions for honoring their dead. Some of those traditions involve activities which we are incapable of performing here on Voyager. In addition, the logistics of removing the remains of eighty-three individuals from an unstable environment would be both difficult and dangerous. It would not be acceptable were any of Voyager’s crew to suffer injuries or fatalities in the course of removing bodies that have been dead for nearly four hundred years. The ship is unstable enough that a single photon torpedo aimed at its power source should vaporize it. Since several of the races on board use immolation as a method of honoring their dead, we would be respecting at least some of their beliefs while reducing the risks to our own crew.”

Janeway looked around the table. “Does anyone have any other suggestions?”

No one spoke, and she returned her gaze to Tuvok. “I’ll take your suggestion under advisement. This isn’t a decision that I want to make quickly.”

“I under—”

“Sickbay to the Captain,” came the Doctor’s voice through Janeway’s comm badge.

“Go ahead, Doctor.”

“Captain, I’ve begun the process of powering down the stasis tube. If all goes well, we should be able to see our new arrival in just a few minutes.”

“I’m on my way.” Janeway stood up. “Good work, everyone. Get some rest. We’ll reconvene tomorrow at 0900 hours.” She turned and left the room. As the other staff members pushed back their chairs, B’Elanna elbowed Tom in the ribs hard enough to make him yelp.

“What was that for?”

She glared. “For having a pathetic sense of humor. Sometimes you’re still a pig.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 3

 

 

Janeway strode through the sickbay doors with her command mask firmly in place, but a set of decidedly mixed feelings behind it. Assuming that the doctor’s procedure went well—and she had no reason to believe it wouldn’t—she was about to meet someone from almost four hundred years in her past. The explorer in her was itching with gleeful anticipation at what could be learned from such a person. On the other hand, she also had the unenviable duty of informing this individual of his or her situation, and she was not looking forward to that at all.

“Report, Doctor.”

The Doctor turned around from his position in front of the silver stasis tube, which towered over his head. “The shutdown procedure is operating smoothly, and I’ve erected a medical force field around the tube. The patient’s vital signs are still masked by the material of the tube, but according to the readout, everything is normal. As soon as the tube has powered down completely, we’ll be able to open it.”

“Will the patient be conscious once the tube is powered down?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Captain,” said the Doctor cheerfully.

Janeway’s voice was cool. “I’m not here to guess, Doctor. I’m here to observe your medical expertise at work.”

The Doctor’s smile vanished and he busied himself with a rack of medications. “I’ve made preparations for every contingency I can think of. My hope is that once we open the tube, we’ll find the occupant in a normal sleep cycle. But without being able to scan through the tube, I really can’t say what will happen.”

Janeway nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, watching the gleaming tube. She didn’t have long to wait. Within five minutes, the stasis tube emitted a sudden hiss as the inside atmosphere was vented. As the hiss died away a mechanical click could be heard, and the front half of the tube slowly slid around, vanishing into the rear half and exposing the interior. The Doctor held a medical tricorder in front of the tube, recording vital signs. Janeway moved to the other side, taking care not to contact the force field, and looked in.

A nude woman stood in the tube. She was quite tall, easily over 180 centimeters, and painfully thin. Dark brown hair liberally laced with silver framed a narrow face that was marred by sunken cheeks, hollow eyes and a ghastly pallor. Her arms, legs, torso and head were all restrained by heavy straps, and a series of wires connected various points of her skin to the tube casing.

Her eyes were wide open.

Janeway was startled, not having expected the tube’s occupant to be conscious. The woman fixed her eyes on the Doctor as he moved the tricorder down her body, and Janeway saw them cloud with confusion, then sharpen with fear. She stepped into the woman’s line of vision and spoke.

“We mean you no harm. You’re safe here. You’re in our sickbay, and this is our doctor. Right now he’s simply making sure that you’re all right. He won’t hurt you.”

The eyes shifted to Janeway, holding her in an intense stare. They were an unusual color of green, sparking with a keen intelligence. They swept down Janeway’s uniform, and when they returned to her own eyes the fearful expression in them had changed to wariness. Still the woman did not speak.

“My name is Captain Kathryn Janeway, and you’re aboard my…ship.” She had started to say “starship,” but decided to be more cautious. “We found you on another ship that was damaged, and brought you here. We only want to help you. No one here will harm you.”

The woman stared for a few seconds longer, then opened her mouth. A wheeze was all that came out. She stopped, cleared her throat, and tried again. “Then let me go,” she said in a rasping voice.

“We will, as soon as it’s safe for you.” Janeway turned to the Doctor. “Is it?”

The Doctor snapped his tricorder shut. “Her vital signs are all normal, considering the situation, and she’s not carrying any biological threats. Computer, release medical force field.” A brief buzz, a flash of grainy blue, and the sickbay was quiet.

Funny, thought Janeway. I never notice the sound of a force field until it’s gone.

“I believe that these wires are simply attached by molecular adhesion,” continued the Doctor. He pulled carefully on one of the wires and it popped off the woman’s skin, leaving no mark. “Good. Help me disconnect these and we can get her out of there. Pull the wires close to her skin.”

Janeway worked on one side of the woman’s body while the Doctor worked on the other. Within half a minute they had all of the wires disconnected. The Doctor pushed a button on the side of the tube, and all of the restraints simultaneously retracted. The woman raised her arms to grip the sides of the tube, stepped out, and immediately toppled forward. Both Janeway and the Doctor caught her. With a nod to Janeway, the Doctor effortlessly picked the woman up and deposited her on the nearest biobed, where she attempted to sit up without success. Lying back, she stared at the ceiling. “Who are you?” she asked.

Thinking that the woman had not processed her words initially, Janeway repeated herself. “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway, and—”

The woman waved a hand, interrupting her. “No. Who are you with? You’re military.”

This was harder to explain. “We belong to the Federation, a peaceful governmental organization. Although there are military aspects to our organization, we are also explorers and diplomats.” She moved closer to the bed so that the woman could see her more easily. “What is your name?”

The woman turned her head and met Janeway’s eyes, her expression still deeply wary. After several seconds of silence, she said, “You’re in uniform, I’m naked, and you’ve done something to me so I can barely move. I have no idea how I got here or why, and I never heard of this ‘Federation.’ I’m not giving you anything.”

The unexpected response took Janeway off guard, and she decided that it was time to regroup.

“Doctor, will you please get some clothing for our guest? And I don’t mean a sickbay gown.” The Doctor opened his mouth as if to protest—he was, after all, in the middle of a medical exam—but thought better of it when he met Janeway’s even stare. As he walked away, Janeway looked down at their new guest once more.

“All right, I can see that the oblique approach isn’t going to work. So here’s the direct approach. When I said you were on my ship, I meant that you were on my starship. The organization I work for is called Starfleet, and our mission includes space exploration, defense, diplomacy, and providing aid. It was that last mission goal that brought you here. We received a distress call from an unknown source which turned out to be a derelict ship, and when we boarded the ship to investigate, we found you, in this stasis tube.” She indicated the tube, standing open and silent near the bed. “It’s a device designed to suspend your metabolism for a period of time. We brought it here, opened it up, and here you are. The reason that you can barely move is because you’ve been in stasis for a while, not because we’ve done anything to you.”

The woman’s expression changed to one of dismissal and disbelief. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe that story.”

Janeway’s response was interrupted by the Doctor’s reappearance with a small pile of folded clothing and a pair of boots. Accepting the clothes, she asked, “Is there any way to speed our guest’s recovery from stasis so she can walk?”

The Doctor turned to look at his patient. “I believe so. There is nothing physically wrong with her other than a lack of nutrients and a severe electrolyte imbalance. She can probably recover some strength almost immediately, though full recovery will take considerably longer.” He reached over to the medicine rack, loaded several vials into a hypospray, and lifted it to the woman’s neck. She flinched and caught his wrist with her hand, moving faster than either of them thought possible. Holding his wrist, she stared at him but said nothing. She must have known that in her weakened state she could not stop the Doctor, but her message was very clear: You are doing this against my will.

Janeway sighed. This was not at all what she’d hoped for. She touched the woman’s arm gently, but the green eyes never moved from the Doctor’s face. Leaning over, she spoke in a calm, low voice. “You said we’d done something to you so that you couldn’t move. Please believe me when I say we have not. We can, however, give you something so that you can move. It is a completely painless injection.”

The woman neither acknowledged Janeway’s words nor moved a centimeter. Janeway looked at the Doctor. “Give the injection to me, Doctor.” She turned her head slightly to expose her throat.

The Doctor frowned for a moment, then nodded in sudden understanding. Moving carefully, he reached across the biobed towards Janeway’s neck. The woman dropped her hand and followed the path of the instrument with her eyes, staring as the hypospray injected its contents with a hiss. Janeway straightened her neck and looked down at their patient, who was now watching her. Without breaking eye contact, she said, “Get another injection.”

The Doctor had the hypospray loaded in seconds, and slowly moved toward the woman’s throat. Still she looked at Janeway, and only flinched when she felt the tip of the hypospray touch her skin. A moment later her eyes widened as the hypospray hissed. Janeway breathed a sigh of relief. She had made the first connection.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she said quietly. “You should feel better soon.”

In fact, the deathly white pallor of the woman’s face was already brightening to a faint pink, and within a few minutes she was able to push herself into a sitting position. Janeway handed her the clothes and said, “We’ll be right over there while you get dressed. Doctor?”

The Doctor did not look pleased at being dragged away from his patient a second time, but he accompanied Janeway to the other side of sickbay without a single sarcastic remark. When they stopped, Janeway watched their patient’s progress out of the corner of her eye as she addressed him. “The stasis wasn’t complete, was it?”

“No. Apparently, the Sumak’s stasis system was not meant to last four hundred years. Her metabolism was still active, though at a very reduced rate. With no nutrients coming into her system, her body gradually converted its own tissues into an energy and fluid source instead.” The Doctor was warming to his subject now—there was nothing he loved so much as pontificating about his medical knowledge. “A good analogy would be hibernation, in which an endothermic organism survives a long period of cold by reducing its metabolism and living off its own body fat. Because the metabolism is so slow and the energy is being converted directly from the body, there are no waste products. Her current condition is that of a person who has been starved for several weeks. In addition, her muscles have atrophied to a considerable degree. We will have to take some care restarting her digestive system, and she’ll require physical therapy to regain muscle strength. Beyond that, however, I don’t see any complications from her long stasis. I will say that it’s a good thing we got there when we did.”

Janeway noted that their patient had managed to put on the clothes and was in the process of pulling on her boots, albeit with some difficulty. “I agree. Then if you foresee no complications, do you have any objection to releasing her from sickbay?”

“Captain, I don’t think that’s wise! She should be monitored for several hours after her release from stasis.”

“Then give me a portable biotransmitter and I’ll get it on her somehow. You can monitor her from your office.” Noting the Doctor’s stubborn expression, Janeway reminded herself that he was the one person on board Voyager who could refuse her orders if he thought it was in the best interests of his patient. Deliberately dropping her tone to one that was more conversational than demanding, she said, “Doctor, you may have noticed that our new guest is not exactly overjoyed to be here. I think you may cause more harm than good if you try to keep her in sickbay and treat her without her cooperation. The only way we’re going to get her cooperation is if she believes what I’m telling her, and I have a feeling that the only way she’ll believe that is if I put the proof in front of her. For that, I need her out of sickbay.”

With a theatrical sigh, the Doctor said, “All right. But I want her back here as soon as possible.” He stalked over to a storage compartment along the wall and returned with a small metal disc. “How are you going to convince her to wear this?”

“I’ll think of something.” Janeway took the biotransmitter and walked back to their patient. The woman was now fully dressed and sitting on the biobed, her long legs dangling over the edge. She was still pale, but looked far healthier than she had a few minutes earlier. Her eyes met Janeway’s, and while they remained guarded, the deeply wary expression was gone.

“Do you feel better?” asked Janeway.

For several seconds the woman appeared to be deciding whether or not to respond at all. Finally she said, “Yes. Thank you.”

Janeway nodded. “You’re welcome. Can you walk?”

The woman slowly slid off the biobed, tested her balance, and took a couple of tentative steps. Her face brightened for just a moment before the guarded expression returned. “Apparently I can.”

“Good. I’d like to take you for a walk and show you something. You might have an easier time believing my story if you see it with your own eyes.” She held up the biotransmitter. “But I can’t take you out of sickbay unless you wear this. It attaches to your neck by molecular adhesion; you won’t feel a thing. All it does is monitor your vital signs and transmit the data back to sickbay.”

Their guest eyed the transmitter. “I won’t wear—”

Janeway interrupted her. “You won’t wear it; yes, I thought as much.” Dropping her hand, she stepped closer to the woman, inside her personal space. “Consider this. A few minutes ago you were unable to move. You would still be unable to move if you hadn’t trusted me and allowed the Doctor to give you that injection.” She gestured to the sickbay doors. “Outside those doors are the answers to all of your questions. But you won’t know those answers unless you trust me a second time. Now you can sit in here and call me a liar, or you can come with me and see for yourself that I’m telling you the truth. If you want to come with me—” she held up the transmitter between them—“then you have to let me put this on you. I won’t force you. It’s your choice.”

Silence stretched between them as their gazes locked. At last the woman nodded. “Fine. If my choice is to stay here or go, then I choose to go.”

Janeway didn’t allow her relief to show. “All right,” she said softly. “I’m going to attach the biotransmitter now. It goes onto your neck, where the Doctor injected you.” She reached up as the woman moved her head to one side, and the small metal disc went silently into place. Stepping back, she offered a friendly smile. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Running her fingers over the biotransmitter, the woman moved to Janeway’s side. When the sickbay doors opened she showed no hesitation, walking through into the corridor as if she knew precisely where she was going. Her attitude was countered by the way she swiveled her head from side to side and up and down; she was taking in every centimeter of the corridor with intense interest. She stared at the crewmembers passing them, and when Ensign Golwat walked by, the woman’s head nearly twisted off her neck. She was still staring after the ensign when they arrived at the turbolift. Janeway pressed the call button and spoke casually. “That was Ensign Golwat. She’s Bolian.”

The woman’s expression was rapidly changing to one of bewilderment. “Bolian?”

The turbolift arrived and they stepped in. “Deck one,” said Janeway. “Bolians are from a planet in the same quadrant as Earth. They all have that blue skin tone.”

When the turbolift doors opened she walked out without another word, leading her guest to the back entrance of the conference room. It was the best place she could think of for her purpose. She entered the room first, then stood aside to let her guest through. The woman took two steps in and stopped, her gaze fixed on the view through the conference room viewports.

There, looming large as it hung motionless in space, was the Sumak ship.

“That’s where we found you,” said Janeway quietly.

The woman looked at her in shocked disbelief, then back at the ship. She walked slowly to one of the viewports, carefully extended her hand, and touched it quickly with one finger. When nothing happened, she rested her hand on the viewport and stared out. Janeway moved to her side and gazed out as well, keeping her guest in her peripheral vision. After a silence that stretched into minutes, the woman’s shoulders slumped and she dropped her hand, turning to face Janeway. All of the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She looked smaller, and very vulnerable.

“Well, either you have the most advanced video projection equipment I’ve ever seen, or you’re telling me the truth,” she said. “And I think you’re telling the truth.” She paused, swallowing hard. “I don’t know where I am or what’s going on, but it looks like I owe you an apology. I’m sorry that I all but called you a liar. Perhaps we can start over fresh.” She held out her hand. “My name is Lynne Hamilton.”

Janeway took her hand and smiled. “Captain Kathryn Janeway. I’m very pleased to meet you at last, Ms. Hamilton.”

Hamilton nodded. “Thank you. I want you to know that…well, I don’t normally behave that way. It’s just that this is a little disconcerting,” she said, showing a gift for understatement. She turned back to the view of the Sumak ship and stared at it for several seconds before speaking again. “How did I get here?”

Janeway had already answered this question once, but she knew her guest must be feeling disoriented. Patiently she explained again how they’d found the Sumak ship, removed her tube and ended her stasis. Hamilton didn’t move a muscle during the explanation or for several minutes afterwards, her attention directed solely on the ship hanging in space beside them. Janeway waited, giving her the time she needed. When Hamilton finally spoke, the interruption to the silence in the room was startling.

“The last thing I remember was going on a dayhike from base camp at Denali.”

Janeway said nothing. Slowly, Hamilton turned her head and searched the captain’s eyes. “Do you know where that is?” she asked, her tone hesitant.

“Yes, the tallest mountain in North America.”

An expression of relief crossed Hamilton’s face. “Well, at least there’s something familiar. My friends and I were planning to start our ascent the next day. I wanted to take a walk, without crampons and climbing gear before we got serious. I remember sitting on a boulder about two miles from camp, just reveling in the silence and the beauty, and the fact that I couldn’t see another human being in my field of vision.” She shrugged. “And that’s it. The next thing I remember was waking up and seeing that doctor and you. Your uniforms, all the consoles and computer readouts—and of course, being naked as a jaybird—it scared the hell out of me.”

“You hid it quite well,” said Janeway. She didn’t know what she’d expected from a person freshly emerged from a 400-year stasis, but this calm manner certainly wasn’t it.

“That’s good to know.” And then, impossibly, one side of the woman’s mouth curved up in a half-smile. It was brief, but the change it wrought over her face was startling. She suddenly looked younger, and Janeway wondered exactly how old she was. It was difficult to tell with the effects of her long stasis, but judging by the amount of silver in her hair and the lines around her eyes, Janeway guessed she was in her early to mid-forties.

The smile died away, and Hamilton turned back to the viewport. “So how did I end up on that ship?”

Janeway hesitated. “Ms. Hamilton, are you aware of certain…stories, about people claiming to have been kidnapped by aliens?”

“Yes, of course, they’re always in the supermarket tabloids. Nobody ever takes them seriously.”

“Perhaps they should have. It’s what happened to you.” Carefully, she explained what Seven and Harry had discovered about the Sumak. The look of horror on Hamilton’s face was something she didn’t think she would forget for a while.

“You mean I was a lab rat?”

Although Humans had stopped using live animals in medical experiments long before Janeway had been born—medical technology had rendered the practice unnecessary—she knew about it and understood the reference. “That was their intent, yes. But they never got to that point because they never made it back to their home planet. Something catastrophic destroyed their ship; we can only guess what it might have been. But because you were protected inside a stasis tube, you survived.”

“My god.” The room was quiet as both women gazed at the shattered ship. After a long pause, Hamilton said slowly, “Captain Janeway, these aliens…they didn’t come all that way just to pick me up, did they? There must have been others.”

“Yes. There were eighty-three others, taken from several different planets.”

“And where are they?”

There was no easy way to say it. “You were the only survivor.”

Hamilton leaned her forehead against the viewport and closed her eyes, what little color there was in her face draining away. “Eighty-three dead. Everyone except me. Why am I the only one who made it?”

“Your stasis tube was the closest to the power source. It was the only one that didn’t lose power.”

“I guess that makes me the lucky one,” said Hamilton, not moving from her position. “Funny, but I don’t feel very lucky. God, this is hard to take in.”

Janeway was silent. It was hard for her to take in, too—there had been members of her own race among the dead, as well as representatives of races she knew and admired. Even the races she disliked had at least been familiar. It seemed a cruel twist of fate that her first contact with species from her own quadrant involved so much death and so little hope—but there was life, too, in the form of this woman from the past.

“I can imagine some of how you must feel,” she said. “It’s been difficult for us as well. Many of us recognize our own species on that ship. But we’re all grateful that you’re here, and that we could pull some life from all that wreckage. We will mourn the dead, but we’ll go on—and so will you.”

Hamilton lifted her head and opened her eyes, meeting Janeway’s gaze in the reflection from the viewport. “Thank you. That does help a little.”

Janeway smiled at her, seeing an answering smile in her guest’s reflection. The sudden gasp startled her. Shifting to look at Hamilton directly, she watched as the woman raised a shaking hand and touched her own face while staring at the viewport. When she turned toward Janeway, her eyes were wide and frightened.

“I just realized that I’ve been seeing my own reflection,” she said. “But it’s not me—I mean, this doesn’t look anything like me. My face is so thin; I look like a skeleton. What’s happened to me?” Her voice rose at the end, a crack appearing in her preternatural calm.

Janeway put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You lost a lot of weight while in stasis, that’s all. You’ll be all right.” Under her hand, she could feel her guest trembling slightly.

“I think I need to sit down,” said Hamilton, moving toward a chair. “May I?”

“Of course,” said Janeway, sitting next to her and feeling like an inconsiderate clod. “I’m sorry, I should have realized…are you feeling all right physically?”

“I’m a little weak in the knees, but otherwise everything seems to be working.” She looked around the room. “Is there somewhere I could get a glass of water?”

Janeway touched her comm badge. “Janeway to sickbay.”

“Captain! How is our patient doing?”

“Ms. Hamilton is doing fine, Doctor,” said Janeway. She knew the casual reference to their patient’s name would leave the Doctor beside himself with curiosity, and smiled inwardly at the thought. “But she’s asked for a glass of water. Would that harm her in any way?”

To his credit, the Doctor did not ask any questions. “Not at all. In fact, she’ll need to take in fluids before we can restart her digestive system. A glass of water would be good for her. Tell her to drink it very slowly.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Janeway out.” Janeway went to the replicator, ordered a glass of water and a cup of coffee, and brought the drinks back to the conference table. Handing the glass to Hamilton, she raised her coffee cup. “I could use something myself. It’s getting a bit late.” She closed her eyes as the first sip of the hot brew hit her taste buds. When she opened them again, it was to find Hamilton eyeing her drink with disbelief.

“Did I just see you pull these out of thin air?”

Whoops. Janeway decided on the short explanation. “It’s called a replicator. We have the technology to convert energy to matter. Go ahead, it’s the real thing.”

Hamilton sipped her drink, paused, then took a larger gulp. She considered the glass in front of her for several seconds, finally setting it down with a click. When she turned, Janeway was struck by the change in her guest’s demeanor. Her face had tightened, her jaw was set, and the bewildered look in her eyes had given way to something far more determined.

“Captain Janeway,” she said, “there’s a piece missing to this puzzle. You’ve told me how I got here, and I can accept that. What I can’t accept is how you got here. This ship, your technology, your ability to travel in space—not to mention the fact that suddenly there’s life on other planets—this is all completely impossible, unless I’ve somehow jumped to an alternate reality. But I think it’s more likely that I’m in my own reality, just a different time.” She paused, then continued more slowly. “You said that the tube you found me in was designed to suspend my metabolism. But I’ve lost a lot of weight, so either my metabolism wasn’t suspended after all, or it was in an incomplete suspension for a long time. Tell me—exactly how long was I in there?”

Well, there it is. Janeway had been trying to think of a gentle way to reveal her guest’s true temporal displacement, and Hamilton had taken it right out of her hands. Meeting the direct gaze head on, she said, “We don’t know exactly when you were captured. But in Earth Standard Time, you are now in the year 2376.”

Hamilton was visibly rocked by this news. She shook her head and spoke almost to herself. “Jesus. I knew it had to be a long time, but my god, almost four hundred years…” She rose from her chair and moved to the viewport, her back to Janeway. “I was climbing Denali as a celebration of the new millennium. It was July 2001. So I’ve been on that ship for three hundred and seventy-five years. Except in my mind, it’s only been three days since I said goodbye to Cole—my boyfriend—and got on an airplane to Alaska. I planned to be home in two weeks. Two weeks!” She let out a sound that might have been a laugh. “Give or take a few centuries. And now I have to wrap my head around the fact that he’s dead, and has been for a long time. Everyone I’ve ever loved…hell, even the people I didn’t like—they’ve all been dead for almost four centuries.”

Janeway stood up and joined her at the viewport. “I realize that this is difficult for you. If you’d like to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”

There was no response at first. Then Hamilton turned and gave her a quick smile that didn’t go anywhere near her eyes. “I appreciate your offer; thank you. But there’s not much to talk about, is there? I’ve lost everyone I ever cared about, and there’s not a thing I can do about it. End of story. At this point, I need answers more than counseling. I need to know more about the time I’m in now, and who you all are, and how you got here. And where is here, anyway?” She gestured toward the viewport.

Janeway hesitated, but the intelligent green eyes watching her did not miss a thing.

“Obviously you don’t have good news about that, either.”

Janeway sighed. “I’m afraid not.” In as few words as possible, she outlined Voyager’s situation: how they had been pulled from Federation space by a powerful entity and then stranded seventy-five thousand light years from home, and how they had been making their way back for nearly five years so far. When she finished, her guest looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “So you’re telling me that not only am I displaced in time, but in space as well?”

“Well—yes. But Voyager has made excellent progress so far, and we’ve already cut our journey in half. I truly believe that we’ll make it home, and sooner rather than later.”

A short laugh escaped. “So it’s not all bad news then, eh? I guess I’m along for the ride.” An expression of alarm crossed her face as she asked, “I am along for the ride, right? You’re not going to put me off somewhere?”

“Of course not!” Janeway was shocked that she could even think it. “You’re one of us now. You were the moment we detected your life sign.”

Hamilton looked at her oddly. “Thank you. Don’t misunderstand, I’m grateful to you and your crew for rescuing me. It’s just that…” She stopped.

“It’s just that what?” Janeway prompted, when she showed no signs of finishing her sentence.

“I guess there’s a lot I need to know,” Hamilton said at last. “Probably more than you’ll ever have time to tell me. It looks like I have four hundred years to catch up on, so where do I start?”

Janeway knew that wasn’t what she’d meant to say, but at least this question had an easy answer. “You can start with the ship’s database. It has complete historical records. You can also read about this ship and its mission, as well as Starfleet and the Federation—that’s a planetary consortium that Earth now belongs to. You’ll be current in no time.” She smiled encouragingly, but she was troubled. Hamilton’s apparent dismissal of her loss and her emotional compartmentalization were character traits that Janeway recognized quite well, since she shared them. And she knew from experience that somewhere, somehow, this was going to cause problems for the woman unless someone could get through to her and help her to process her displacement. For the thousandth time she wished for a ship’s counselor, because she was fairly certain this was going to fall on her shoulders.

“There’s a computer interface in sickbay,” she continued. “The Doctor wants to keep you under observation for a while, so we’ll get you started there. I’ll show you how to use the computer, and the Doctor can answer any questions you may have after I leave.” Janeway indicated the door. “Shall we?”

Hamilton looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded. “All right.” As they walked toward the door, she confided, “I was kind of hoping that once I left that place, I wouldn’t have to go back. I hate hospitals.”

Janeway laughed. “You’ll fit in just fine with us, Ms. Hamilton. I can see that already.”

 

 

-----

 

 

At 2300 hours Janeway stepped into her quarters for the first time since she’d left them that morning. It had been a long and draining day. She’d shown Hamilton how to use the computer—really, the woman had grasped the concepts and the information storage system amazingly quickly—and left her to her research. Then she’d had to hear an update from the Doctor on his plans for physical therapy and restarting their guest’s digestive system. When she was finally able to leave, all she wanted to do was go home and go to bed. But her day wasn’t done yet. She had another staff meeting at 0900, and by then she needed to have a decision made on how to deal with the bodies still littering the alien ship outside her viewport.

Walking straight to the replicator, Janeway ordered a whiskey and soda. Settling in her favorite chair, she asked the computer to play a slow jazz selection. As she sipped her drink and listened to the soothing music, she could feel some of the tension easing from between her shoulders. Sinking even deeper into the chair, she reviewed her options, weighed the benefits and risks, and considered the issue of her crew’s morale. By the time her glass was empty, she’d made her decision. Tuvok was right; the risk to the crew was too high to attempt removal of the bodies. In addition, bringing eighty-three corpses on to Voyager and then disposing of them in the appropriate ways would seriously impact her crew’s morale. Better to honor the dead in one spectacular explosion, something that was conclusive, and be done with it.

As she took her glass to the replicator and prepared for bed, another thought occurred to her. Hamilton needed the closure, too. She’d have the Doctor bring her to the memorial service.

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 4

 

 

The next day the ship was abuzz with the news. Captain Janeway had distributed a shipwide memo informing the crew of the eighty-three dead prisoners and the upcoming destruction of the ship. She set aside one hour for crewmembers to either attend the memorial in the mess hall, watch it on viewscreens throughout the ship, or simply process the tragedy in their own way. The memorial was scheduled for 1500 hours.

At 1455, Janeway stood in her dress uniform, watching the gathering crowd. Seven of Nine entered the room and took up a position near a viewport, her hands behind her back. It hadn’t been too long ago that Seven espoused the Borg philosophy regarding death: dead was dead, and the event was unworthy of any special attention. She’d come a long way since then. Janeway caught her eye across the room and gave her an approving smile; Seven nodded her head in response.

Then the Doctor came in with Hamilton. She had put her hair back in a French braid and was dressed in black, standing out vividly in the sea of colored uniforms. They came through the crowd directly to Janeway.

“Captain Janeway, thank you for doing this,” said Hamilton. “And thank you for inviting me to attend.” Her attire contrasted with her still-pale face, and the silver streaks in her braid created an arresting effect.

“You’re very welcome,” said Janeway. “I suspected you might need this more than any of us.”

Tuvok arrived and nodded to Janeway, indicating that all was ready. She stepped to the front of the crowd and the room fell silent. Scanning the faces of her crew, she began to speak.

“We are here to honor the lives of eighty-three individuals who died on the Sumak ship. They were residents of the Alpha quadrant, taken from their homes without their consent or knowledge. They were Andorian, Bajoran, Betazoid, Bolian, Breen, Cardassian, Human, Klingon, Nausicaan, Romulan, Trill, and Vulcan.” She paused.

“It is not possible for us to honor the memories of each individual on that ship. We will never know their names. We will never know how they lived, who they loved, what was important to them, what gave them joy. We will never know what they accomplished, or what they could have accomplished had they lived out their lives. But we do know one thing: that their deaths are recognized and honored.

“Although we cannot treat all of their physical remains as their belief systems would warrant, we can still respect those beliefs. Accordingly, a representative of each race will share with us their ways of honoring their dead. Those races not represented on this ship will have someone else to speak for them. Commander Chakotay will begin.”

Janeway stepped back into the crowd, and Commander Chakotay came forward to talk about Andorian beliefs. When he finished, Tal Celes walked up. Her voice was shaky at first, but grew stronger as she told of her people’s relationship with the Prophets. Ensign Harry Kim spoke for the Betazoids, and Ensign Golwat represented her race. By the time Tuvok stepped up, Janeway was marveling at the amazing diversity of ideas and concepts represented here, and also at some of the startling similarities. She had never had occasion to learn about the death and afterlife beliefs of several of these races, and was moved by what she heard.

When Tuvok finished, Janeway returned to the front. Surveying the sea of sober faces, she paused when her gaze reached Hamilton. Their new passenger stood straight and tall, but the glint on her cheeks betrayed the course of tears. Good, Janeway thought. It can’t be healthy for her to be as controlled as she seemed. She looked at Tuvok, who nodded and said something quietly into his comm badge. Then Janeway spoke.

“The ship before us has been a tomb for three hundred and seventy-five years. But we cannot leave it as we have found it. It is not known by others to be a sacred resting place, and we cannot guarantee that those aboard it will be left in peace once we are gone.

“Therefore, we have one last gift to give these honored dead: a final gesture of respect.” She nodded at Ensign Farley, who stepped forward to play a quiet dirge on his flute. When the last notes faded, Janeway glanced at Tuvok, then faced the viewports. Tuvok spoke again into his comm badge, and a photon torpedo ripped through space toward the ship. A second later the derelict ship erupted in a silent explosion.

At the same moment, an agonized scream tore through the quiet crowd. Janeway whirled around in time to see Lynne Hamilton drop to the floor, her hands to her head. She curled into a fetal position, sobbing, “No! Make it stop! Oh god, make it stop!” And then she could say no more as her screams became those of pure animal pain.

Janeway slapped her comm badge on Hamilton’s writhing body and shouted to be heard over the screams. “Computer, medical emergency! Lock onto my comm signal and transport one to sickbay!”

The Doctor was already dissolving as he transferred his program. Moments later the screams were cut off as Hamilton was taken by the transporter beam. The ensuing silence was shocking by comparison, and every person in the room was wide-eyed and shaken. Janeway’s own heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest.

So much for crew morale. There was nothing she could say or do to mitigate the impact that Hamilton’s sudden breakdown had created; all she could do was end the service.

“Thank you all for attending,” she said. “Those of you on duty may return to your stations.” There was a long pause, and then a quiet buzz filled the room as some people left for their stations and others took seats at the mess hall tables, leaning close in intent conversation. Janeway looked at her first officer. “You have the bridge, Chakotay. I’ll be in sickbay.”

 

 

-----

 

 

For the second time in two days, Janeway strode through the doors to sickbay without knowing what she would find there. Whatever had happened to Lynne Hamilton was tied to the destruction of the ship somehow, that much was obvious. She hoped the Doctor would have some answers quickly.

When she glimpsed the still form on the biobed, she thought for just a moment that Hamilton was dead. But the readouts indicated otherwise, and she stepped up to the bed with a feeling of relief.

“What happened?”

The Doctor glanced up from the scan he was running. “One moment please, Captain.” He finished the scan, looked at the readout, and frowned. “I don’t know yet. When she arrived in sickbay I sedated her immediately and have been running scans ever since. So far, they don’t show anything except that her blood pressure has dropped and her heart rate and adrenaline levels are way up. None of those findings are surprising, given what we saw in the mess hall. I’m about to do a deep brain scan next.”

Janeway stood by, hating the fact that she was helpless to do anything. She watched as the Doctor carefully positioned the brain scanner, checked the settings, and activated it. Lights glowed on the scanner as it began feeding information to the Doctor’s computer terminal.

“Hmm,” said the Doctor as he watched the readings. “This is interesting.”

“What?” said Janeway, trying hard to curb her irritation at the Doctor’s lack of explanation.

“The pain center in her brain has been stimulated somehow. Since there is nothing wrong with her physically, I can only assume that the stimulation is direct.” His fingers flew over the control panel and the hum of the scanner paused for a moment before continuing. “I’ve programmed the scanner to focus on that specific region of her brain, and increased the resolution. Let’s see what it shows us.”

Janeway walked around the panel to see for herself. A visual image of Hamilton’s brain on a cellular level was scrolling by, and she knew she didn’t have the training to recognize anything out of the ordinary. Still, watching this was better than watching the Doctor.

The image continued to scroll past, moving back and forth as the Doctor scanned each layer of cells and refocused the scanner to the next layer. Then something so abnormal appeared on the screen that Janeway needed no training to know they’d found the problem.

“What the hell is that?” she said.

The Doctor was staring at the screen in surprise. “I don’t know,” he said. “Some sort of microbot, I’d guess. It’s clamped on to the nerve bundle leading to the pain center. Obviously it’s stimulating the nerves somehow, but I’ll have to get it out of there to find out how it works and why it’s there.”

He began pulling instruments and equipment out of supply cabinets. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I’ll have to ask you to move out of the area. I’m going to need to erect a medical force field to guard against contaminants. This is going to be very delicate microsurgery.”

Janeway moved several steps away. “How long will it take?”

“Three hours at least. I can’t be more specific than that.” He activated the force field and bent over Ms. Hamilton.

“Contact me as soon as you’re finished,” said Janeway, and the Doctor nodded without even looking up. Janeway turned and left. She still felt helpless, but at least now they knew something. All she had to do was wait. And she was so very good at that.

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway was in her quarters, trying unsuccessfully to read a book, when the call came in four hours later. “Sickbay to Captain Janeway.”

Janeway dropped her book and hit her comm badge. “Go ahead, Doctor.”

“Captain, I’ve removed the microbot, and Ms. Hamilton should make a full recovery. If you’ll come to sickbay, I think I can explain what happened.”

“I’ll be right there.” Janeway was out the door in seconds, and in sickbay less than three minutes later. She was surprised to see her chief engineer there with the Doctor. B’Elanna looked up at her entrance and waved her over.

“Take a look at this, Captain.” She indicated a viewscreen, and Janeway walked up to see a magnified image of the microbot. It had been disassembled, and she recognized some of the components that were exposed.

“It’s a receiver of some sort, isn’t it?” she said, staring intently at the screen.

“Yes,” said the Doctor. “And more. When I removed it from Ms. Hamilton’s brain, I asked B’Elanna to help me determine how it worked.”

“It’s actually quite a simple little machine once you get the thing apart,” said B’Elanna. “But the microcircuitry is amazingly advanced. As long as it receives a programmed signal, it stays inactive. But if the signal stops, the microbot responds by generating an electrical charge that is delivered directly to the nerve leading to the pain center.”

The Doctor picked up the thread. “The charge causes the victim to feel excruciating pain. And since the pain is not caused by any actual physical trauma, the body can’t engage any of its pain-blocking defenses. For instance, if you cut your hand, you initially feel a sharp pain caused by nerve impulses from the injured area to your brain. Those nerve impulses go into the thalamus, which directs them onward to the pain center. As the impulses are redirected, the brain stimulates production of a neuropeptide that inhibits pain signals. Soon the acute pain dulls down to something that still hurts, but not nearly as much as the initial injury.” He indicated the viewscreen. “This little gem bypasses that defense by delivering the equivalent of a nerve impulse directly to the pain center. There’s no way for the brain to suppress it. Ms. Hamilton was experiencing more pain than is normally possible for a Human to feel.”

Janeway was horrified. “But why would…” She stopped. “Harry said the Sumak tested their victims for pain tolerance. Is this how they did it?”

“I don’t think so,” said B’Elanna. “I mean, that may have been a secondary purpose, but I don’t think that’s what it was designed to do. If you’re testing for pain tolerance, you’d want to be able to produce different levels of pain. This microbot can only produce one level: excruciating.”

“Then what was it designed for?”

“We’ll probably never know for sure, but I can make a guess. Captain, you didn’t see the destruction inside that ship—it was even worse than the outside. There wasn’t a single bulkhead left standing, except in the room where the stasis tubes were. Those bulkheads were reinforced, and I found other signs that indicated the Sumak were paranoid about possible escape. I think this device is one more safeguard against a prisoner getting away somehow. There must have been a transmitter on board the ship that kept these devices inactive, but if a prisoner ever escaped, they wouldn’t get far before going beyond the range of the signal. Then they’d be incapacitated and easy to recapture.”

Something didn’t add up here. “But a prisoner couldn’t go anywhere on the ship that would be out of range of the transmitter,” said Janeway. “And with nothing in space to interfere with the signal, it would also travel a good distance outside the ship as well. How would that prevent escape?”

“I don’t think it was designed to prevent escape on the ship itself,” said B’Elanna. “They had plenty of other methods to deal with that. I think it was designed to prevent escape once the prisoners were on their homeworld. With buildings and landforms to get in the way, a prisoner could be out of range of the signal in a short distance.”

“Not only that,” said the Doctor thoughtfully, “but it’s likely the signal would not suddenly end, but would gradually degrade instead. I suspect that the microbot is not intended to deliver the kind of constant charge that Ms. Hamilton received. It’s intended to deliver short charges as the suppressing signal fades in and out. That’s all that would be needed to incapacitate a humanoid.”

Janeway groaned inwardly. “So when we destroyed the ship, we also destroyed the transmitter and cut off the signal altogether.” She walked around to Hamilton’s biobed and gazed at the still face, her anger swiftly rising. The Sumak had caused this woman so much harm, and they were still doing it, long after their own deaths. What bastards.

“I’m sure that the Sumak had some redeeming qualities,” she said. “But I’m damned if I can imagine what they could possibly have been. And I won’t feel easy until this sector is five light years behind us.” She activated her comm badge. “Janeway to bridge.”

“Yes, Captain.” It was Chakotay’s voice.

“Chakotay, we’re done here. Resume original heading, warp six. Get us the hell out of this space.”

“Course set. We’re on our way.”

“Janeway out.” She could feel the hum of the warp engine and didn’t need a viewport to know that the few remaining molecules of the Sumak ship were falling quickly behind them—but not quickly enough to erase her sorrow and guilt. In the course of helping this woman, they had inadvertently caused her unthinkable pain. And it had been her decision that had set it in motion.

Her introduction to our time has been nothing but traumatic. I hope I can turn this around. Turning to leave, she said, “Doctor, you’ve done excellent work here. Thank you. And B’Elanna, thank you for your help and your input. As soon as I get your reports I’ll add them to the mission log and then close the file. After that, I hope I never hear the name ‘Sumak’ again.” She nodded shortly and walked out of sickbay.

B’Elanna and the Doctor looked at each other, startled by Janeway’s attitude. The Doctor spoke first.

“I wonder if the Captain needs a checkup?”

B’Elanna shook her head. “No, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her. She’s just pissed off that we couldn’t catch this before it happened. I wouldn’t mention anything to her if I were you. She’d probably tear your holographic head off.”

The Doctor moved off to prepare his report, leaving B’Elanna staring at the sleeping form of Lynne Hamilton. She had a speculative look on her face. Then she shrugged her shoulders and headed back to engineering.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 5

 

 

Alpha shift was nearly over the next day before Janeway got the call that Ms. Hamilton was regaining consciousness. She wasted no time turning the bridge over to Chakotay. When she arrived in sickbay she could hear Hamilton’s voice, speaking to the Doctor in slow and tired tones.

“And how do you feel now?” the Doctor asked.

“Like I just fell two thousand feet down an ice slope and came to a stop against a granite wall. Every muscle in my body hurts.”

Janeway arrived at the biobed as the Doctor responded, “That’s to be expected. Your muscles hurt because they were severely contracted. I can give you something to help with that.” He moved to a medication rack and began loading a hypospray.

Hamilton looked up. “Captain Janeway. What happened?”

Janeway had been dreading this moment. It pained her to have to tell Hamilton of another Sumak cruelty committed against her, and she still felt a simmering rage toward the aliens. She pushed her anger deep down and explained their theory as gently as she could. As she talked, the Doctor returned and injected Hamilton, who was so focused on what she was hearing that she didn’t even move her head. When Janeway finished, Hamilton let her head roll back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “You say this thing was the size of a cell?”

“Yes.”

“Then how can you be sure that there aren’t any other little…gifts left inside me?”

“We can’t,” said the Doctor. Janeway shot him a glare that would have sent most organic lifeforms into cardiac arrest, and he scrambled to modify his statement. “I mean that we’ve scanned you thoroughly for any other implants and found nothing, but it is possible that since we don’t know exactly where to look, an implant of that size could escape notice until we focused in on its exact location. However, I’m reasonably certain that there was only the one.”

Janeway thought the Doctor’s bedside manner could still use a great deal of improvement. Leaning over Hamilton, she said in a reassuring tone, “The Sumak ship has been destroyed, and we’re already nearly a light year away from its location. If you had any other signal-controlled implants, they would have activated by now. Also, you never arrived at the Sumak homeworld and were therefore never involved in an experiment, so I can’t imagine that the Sumak had the time or any reason to implant anything else in you. You’re safe now.”

“But just to make sure of that,” said the Doctor as he wheeled the brain scanner into place, “I’d like to run another scan on you now that you're awake. Don’t worry, this won’t hurt.”

Hamilton closed her eyes. “Doctor, I don’t know what your capabilities are, but I really don’t think it’s possible for you to do anything to me that could hurt as much as that implant.”

Janeway’s heart ached to see her new passenger lying there so quietly, accepting the Doctor’s ministrations with the air of one who had nothing to lose and really didn’t care. It was such a contrast to the stubborn resistance and quick intelligence she’d seen in their first meeting. As she watched the progress of the scan, a protective instinct rose up in her. She wanted to put her arm around this woman and tell her that everything would be all right, that she’d make sure of it. But her father had always said don’t make promises that life won’t let you keep, and she had lived by that advice. Unfortunately, life hardly ever allowed her to make guarantees.

The Doctor turned off the scanner and pushed it away. “The scan shows nothing. You’re going to be fine.” He leaned over her. “Can you sit up?”

“Let’s find out,” she said. Ignoring his outstretched hand, she pulled herself into a sitting position. Only a wince betrayed her discomfort. “I feel like I have no abdominal muscles at all.”

“You don’t, really,” said the Doctor. “That’s something that we’ll have to work on with your physical therapy.”

“What do you mean?” Obviously this was the first she’d heard of it.

Janeway stepped in to prevent the Doctor from digging another hole. “Ms. Hamilton, you were in stasis for a very long time. Much longer than the system was designed for. You already know that your metabolism wasn’t entirely shut down; it was just dramatically slowed. And that means that your body still needed nutrients. Since there was nothing coming into your body to satisfy that need, it simply used what it had. You burned up all of your extra fat and a lot of your muscle tissue to survive, and it’s going to take you a little while to rebuild.”

Hamilton took a moment to absorb this. Without a word, she pulled her sleeve up and flexed one bicep while feeling the muscle with her other hand. Then she checked the rest of her body, wincing several times as she flexed various muscles, but never letting out a sound. When she looked up again, she had the calm, quiet air of complete despair.

“Well, that’s it. There isn’t anything left they could possibly do to me. They took me away from everyone I loved, booby trapped my brain, and now they’ve even taken my body. Damn, I thought I was just weak from the stasis.” She slumped back on the biobed and stared up at the ceiling.

“Your physical condition is only temporary,” said the Doctor. “With a little therapy we’ll have you up and around in no time.” He was doing his best to sound encouraging, but the silence from his patient testified to his ineffectiveness.

Janeway put a gentle hand on their patient’s shoulder and watched as Hamilton slowly turned her head. The encouraging words died on her lips as she looked into eyes that were full of a quiet defeat.

“You don’t know me,” said Hamilton. “None of you do. You have no idea what I used to be.” She returned her gaze to the ceiling, continuing after a pause. “I’ve worked all my life to stay on top of the heap. I’ve always had to prove myself by being better, stronger, faster. And I was. But now I’m slow and weak and behind the times.” Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Hell, I don’t even know who I am anymore. Why should you?”

Janeway felt her new passenger slipping away from them and wished once more that she had a ship’s counselor. She’d take a nice, clean firefight over the slippery uncertainties of emotions any day. But there was no counselor on board, and if she left things up to the Doctor this woman would probably be catatonic by the end of the shift.

Squeezing the warm shoulder beneath her hand, she said, “What the Sumak did to you happened a long time ago. They’re all dead, but you are alive.” Hamilton met her eyes and Janeway looked at her intently, trying to find the fire she knew was there. “You’re right,” she continued. “There’s nothing they can possibly do to you now—because you’ve outlived them. You survived. Your brain is fine, and you’ll get your body back with a little work. The Doctor has an excellent plan for your physical therapy, and you’ll be surprised at how quickly you recover. And you will recover—because that will be your victory over them.”

Though Hamilton said nothing, her gaze sharpened a little, just enough for Janeway to hope that she was getting through. “How long will you need to keep her for observation?” she asked the Doctor.

“At least forty-eight hours. Even without the microsurgery, I’d still want to keep her here until we finish rehydrating her and get more nutrients into her system.”

Janeway nodded. “All right. I want daily updates, and contact me when you’re ready to discharge her.”

“Of course.” The Doctor smiled at Hamilton and walked into his office.

When she turned back to the biobed, Janeway wasn’t surprised to see Hamilton watching her.

“I’m in here for two more days?” She didn’t sound happy at the news.

“You need the rest,” said Janeway, holding up a hand to forestall the objection she could see forming on the woman’s lips. “And you’ll have full access to the ship’s database,” she added in a gentler tone. “You can catch up on things just as easily here as anywhere else on board. I’ll check in on you to see how you’re doing.”

Hamilton tightened her jaw and perused the ceiling once again. “Fine,” she said. Under her breath she added, “It’s not like I have anyplace else to go.”

Janeway was already moving away and almost didn’t hear the quiet comment. She paused, then returned to the biobed and leaned over until Hamilton had no choice but to meet her gaze. “You will,” she said. “Voyager is your home now. You’re one of us.” She could see the doubt in her eyes; could almost hear the woman thinking, No, I’m not.

“Yes,” she said, “you are.” Green eyes widened in surprise and Janeway knew she’d hit the mark. “And I look forward to showing you around when you’re feeling better,” she added. She stayed where she was, not releasing the eye contact until Hamilton finally nodded. When the woman didn’t seem inclined to say anything more, Janeway wished her a good evening and turned to go. She’d taken several steps when she heard the voice behind her.

“Captain Janeway.” Hamilton was propped up on her elbows.

“Yes?”

“I…I appreciate what you said. Thank you.”

Janeway smiled at her newest passenger. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Despite receiving regular updates from the Doctor, Janeway made a point of visiting sickbay twice each day for the next two days. Hamilton slept through the first day and half of the second, and the Doctor assured Janeway that their patient was fine; sleep was just what her body needed right now. On her fourth visit, Janeway arrived to find Hamilton sitting at the computer console, going through what appeared to be historical records.

“How are you feeling?” asked Janeway as she came to a stop behind her chair.

Hamilton jumped a little, then turned with a sheepish look on her face. “Well, I was feeling quite a bit better until you scared the tar out of me.”

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to.”

Hamilton ran a hand over her face and shook her hair out of her eyes. “No, I know you didn’t. I was just…a little absorbed, I guess.” She gestured at the computer. “I didn’t expect to be reading about World War III.”

Janeway took a moment to scan the text on the screen. “I’m afraid that won’t be the last war you read about,” she said reluctantly. “But you’ll find a lot of positive history, too. Inventions, advances, treaties, new understandings of science and humanity…we’ve done some good things.”

“That’s obvious from what I’ve seen of this ship so far,” said Hamilton. “And of you.” One side of her mouth curved up in a tired smile. “I’ll be glad when I get to the good stuff, though. This isn’t exactly the type of light reading recommended for hospital stays.” She rubbed her face again. “The part I can’t quite get over is that to you, this is all history. To me, it’s the future. It’s so strange reading about things that haven’t happened yet in past tense. I feel…adrift.”

“Maybe it would help if you used a different perspective,” said Janeway.

“Such as?” Hamilton looked skeptical.

“Well, current theory in temporal mechanics holds that time isn’t linear at all, but is happening at all times, all around us. That it’s like a river, with past, present and future all intermixed and moving together. And that if we can learn to distinguish between them, we can step from one time to another at will.” She didn’t mention her certain knowledge that by the twenty-ninth century, humanity would be able to do just that. “Travel through normal space requires two things. One is propulsion; the other is the means to determine the difference between Point A and Point B. We’ve come up with several possibilities for propulsion in time travel, but so far we can’t differentiate between different points in time. However, we’ve had experiences with several races that are able to travel through time, so we know it’s possible.

“Time is happening simultaneously, Ms. Hamilton. The past and the future are all around us, just waiting for us to learn to distinguish them. So thinking of the last four hundred years as the past is simply a matter of your chosen perspective—you could just as easily think of them as the future or the present. At the moment, we Humans continue to think of time as linear because it’s too difficult for us to comprehend the other possibilities. But I think someday that will change.”

There was a momentary silence as Hamilton simply stared at Janeway.

“Holy shit,” she said at last. “I think I need to be smoking a joint to understand what you just said. Do you people often walk around discussing these kinds of concepts?”

“Not all of us, no, and not all the time,” said Janeway. “What’s a joint?”

“Oh, no. Are you going to tell me that no one uses marijuana anymore?”

“I guess not, since I never heard of it. What is it?”

Hamilton’s cheeks looked slightly pink, a noticeable color change given the still-pale skin tone of her face. “Um…it’s a plant. You dry the leaves and buds and smoke it. The tissues contain a drug called THC, and what that stands for I really don’t remember, but it does some pretty fun things to your brain if it’s used properly.”

“I take it you know how to use it properly,” said Janeway, crossing her arms over her chest. Secretly she was delighted that Hamilton was opening up this much.

The color in Hamilton’s face increased. “Well…yes, I do. I mean I did. But it’s been a while.” She tilted her head to one side, meeting Janeway’s gaze curiously. “So what’s the current governmental stance on recreational drugs?”

“Depends on which government and what kind of drug you’re talking about,” said Janeway. “Narcotics are almost unheard of on Earth these days, but believe me, if you want to rearrange the synapses in your brain, there are any number of planets you can go to for highly refined, extremely powerful drugs.” She allowed a smile to break the surface. “However, I think anyone involved in the recreational drug business would be mortified at the idea of smoking a plant. It would be considered disgustingly low-tech.”

The short pause following her statement was broken by something she hadn’t expected: a low chuckle. Hamilton looked up with bright eyes, still chuckling.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll have to keep in mind that my past drug experiences, which would once have been considered slightly racy and a little outside acceptable society, are now nothing more than a primitive embarrassment. How humbling.”

Janeway’s response was interrupted by the Doctor, who appeared from his office with PADD in hand. “Ah, Captain. I was just about to contact you.” He beamed at his patient. “Ms. Hamilton is ready for release. She’s recovering nicely and needs nothing more than continued rest, which she can do quite well in her own quarters. I see no further reason to keep her under observation. I would, however, like to see her first thing tomorrow for the start of her physical therapy.”

Janeway nodded. “Excellent. Thank you, Doctor. Ms. Hamilton, would you like to see your new quarters?”

Standing up quickly, Hamilton said, “God, yes. You have no idea how much I’d like that. Just get me out of here. No offense, Doctor,” she added after a pause.

“None taken,” said the Doctor with a slightly injured air.

As Janeway walked out with her new passenger in tow, she heard the Doctor talking to himself just before the doors slid shut.

“Why does everyone always want to leave sickbay?”

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway had assigned Hamilton quarters on deck six and was now showing her around her new home. Her guest was observing everything quietly, but her interest had obviously been piqued by the tour.

“And this is the replicator,” said Janeway as they came to a stop in front of the unit. “The technology is complicated, but operating it is easy. Simply ask it for what you want, and be specific.”

Hamilton looked doubtfully at the unit. “What do you mean, ‘be specific’?”

Janeway spoke. “Computer, water.”

The replicator produced the default for that command, a glass of room-temperature water. Janeway handed it to Hamilton and turned to the unit again. “Computer, water, cold.”

Another glass appeared, and Janeway handed that one to Hamilton as well. “That’s what I mean. You can program it for your preferences, but right now it’s using a default menu.”

“Got it,” said Hamilton. Setting both glasses on a nearby table, she stepped up to the unit. “Computer, gin and tonic, on the rocks. Icy cold.”

“Please restate your request,” said the computer. Hamilton turned to Janeway with a bewildered air.

Janeway was just as confused as the computer. “What does ‘on the rocks’ mean?”

“Oh. Right. I need to watch my idioms. It’s a slang term for ‘with ice,’ but it was so common in my time that I never even thought of it as slang.” She turned back to the unit. “Computer, gin and tonic, cold, with ice.” In a moment, the replicator produced the drink. With a smile that actually touched both sides of her mouth, Hamilton lifted the glass. Her smile died when she saw the expression on Janeway’s face. “No?”

“No. God only knows what that would do to your digestive system right now. Do you want to go back to sickbay so soon?”

Sighing, Hamilton looked at the drink. “Can I just tell you what a laugh a minute it’s been to wake up here? Now what am I supposed to do with it? There isn’t even a sink.”

Janeway took the glass out of Hamilton’s hand and put it back in the replicator. “Computer, recycle.”

With its characteristic hum, the computer recycled the components of the drink and the glass, storing the energy. Hamilton looked impressed. “Now that is every working woman’s dream.”

Amused, Janeway continued her tour, taking her guest through the bedroom and into the ensuite, where she showed her how to operate the sink and sonic shower. Hamilton looked decidedly askance at the shower. “Let me get this straight. There’s no water, just sound waves?”

“That’s right. Some of the crew quarters have both sonic and hydro units, but not these. Our water reclamation system couldn’t clean and recycle enough water to provide a sufficient amount for all crew quarters, so we have sonic-only units in all but the officer’s quarters. They’re extremely efficient, and you don’t even have to dry off.” Janeway didn’t mention her own famous distaste for sonic showers; Hamilton looked doubtful enough as it was.

“Well, however it works, I’ll be trying it out soon. I feel like I haven’t had a shower in a few hundred years.” Her voice was so dry that Janeway wasn’t sure whether she was making a joke or not; a quick glance at her straight face didn’t help. She decided to let that one go. Moving back into the living room, she indicated the standard furnishings.

“Within certain size limitations, you can order anything you want to use for decorations from your own replicator. You can also use it to replicate clothing for yourself, and anything else you might need. Keep in mind that everything you order costs a certain amount in replicator rations. I’ve had a move-in deposit put into your account, which should cover the necessities. Anything larger than your replicator can handle will have to be ordered from ship’s stores.” She showed her guest how to access her account and check the database of options from the replicator, then moved to the computer terminal to demonstrate how to activate it and access the ship’s databases from the unit.

“That should be everything you need to get along,” she said. “The computer will keep you busy for as long as you have questions for it. You can ask for a schematic of the ship to familiarize yourself with the layout, and that should help you feel more at home. Oh, and one more thing. This is yours.” She pulled a comm badge out of her pocket and held it out. Hamilton took it and looked at it curiously. “All of our comm badges are programmed to the individual. Among other things, they allow the computer to route communications. If you ever want to reach me, just activate the badge by tapping it once, and ask for me. If someone calls you, tap the badge and you’ll open the channel. The badges also allow the computer to track our locations.” To demonstrate, she said, “Computer, locate Captain Janeway.”

“Captain Janeway is in Lynne Hamilton’s quarters.”

She looked at Hamilton’s wide eyes and added, “Sometimes these badges are the difference between life and death. Don’t ever take yours off unless you’re in the shower or in bed, and even then you should keep it within arm’s reach.”

“How do I put it on?”

“It will adhere to any material, and comes off when you pull it. Just press it to your shirt.”

Hamilton looked at Janeway’s own badge, then pressed hers to the same spot on her chest. The comm badge stayed put.

It seemed to Janeway that the sight of Hamilton in her own quarters, wearing her comm badge, felt somehow right. She was aware of the lower decks gossip characterizing her as a captain who liked to pick up strays, but providing aid to those in need was a Starfleet ideal that they were all bound to uphold. The fact that she enjoyed helping others was a secondary motivation.

She held out her hand. “Welcome to Voyager, Ms. Hamilton,” she said.

Hamilton shook her hand warmly. “Thank you, Captain Janeway. And please, call me Lynne. Everyone’s so polite around here; I’m starting to feel like I don’t have a first name.”

Janeway nearly snorted at hearing her crew described as ‘polite,’ but kept a straight face. “All right,” she said, “I will if you’ll call me Captain.”

“Done,” said Lynne. “Captain, I recognize that you must have a lot of demands on your time, and I’m grateful for the amount you’ve spent with me. You’ve made this a little bit easier for me, and I truly appreciate it.”

Janeway was warmed by her earnest gratitude. “You’re very welcome,” she said. “Call me anytime you need me. I’ll check back with you tomorrow to see how you’re doing.”

Lynne nodded, and Janeway started back to the bridge. As she rode in the turbolift, she thought with relief that her newest passenger was adjusting very well, considering what she’d been through.

Her sense of well-being would have abruptly evaporated if she could have seen the lonely figure slumped in her quarters, sobbing amidst the tasteful but sterile Starfleet standard décor.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 6

 

 

Toward the end of Alpha shift the next day, B’Elanna had called the bridge to inform them that the dilithium crystals they’d recently installed had developed fractures and would have to be immediately replaced. They’d taken the warp engines off line, and Janeway used the opportunity to roll up her sleeves and pitch in with the repairs. Every now and again she liked to brush up on her engineering skills, knowing that the occasional practice kept her sharp. She also knew that her presence in engineering tended to galvanize the staff, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad side effect. B’Elanna seemed fairly immune to this effect, however. It was a common characteristic for chief engineers, who knew perfectly well that all captains were at their mercy. Without the chief engineer, the engines wouldn’t run, and a captain with no engines was like a crystal goblet with no wine: decorative, but not very functional.

The downside to the day’s events was that they were now down to a single set of spare dilithium crystals. Janeway shook her head when B’Elanna gave her the news. She’d known their good fortune couldn’t last. It wasn’t that she was naturally a pessimist; it was just that life in the Delta Quadrant tended to reward optimism with more crises. Well, they’d just have to keep their eyes peeled for any source of dilithium as they traveled.

She found time during the repairs to make a quick call to the Doctor, who informed her that their new passenger had been in for her first physical therapy session and her first solid food. “She’s going to have to be watched, Captain,” said the Doctor in a disapproving voice. “She tried to overdo her physical therapy, and it was only the fact that I was expecting such behavior that saved her from hurting herself. She reminds me of a certain captain we all know.” Janeway hid her smile and thanked the Doctor, ignoring his pointed comment. Then she was swamped by work and didn’t leave engineering until late that evening, at which point it was really too late to drop by Lynne’s quarters. Retiring to her own quarters, she called up a glass of merlot, sank into her favorite chair, and tapped her comm badge.

“Janeway to Hamilton.”

There was no answer. Janeway felt a little alarmed. “Captain Janeway to Lynne Hamilton,” she repeated.

“Hi, Captain, this is Lynne. I’m sorry, I just stepped out of the shower and forgot where I’d put my badge. Wow, that shower is something else.”

Janeway relaxed and smiled. Hearing Lynne’s voice gave her a warm feeling that she didn’t stop to analyze. It was just nice to know that she was okay. Of course, if she wasn’t okay, the Doctor would have informed her instantly, but Janeway didn’t feel the need to examine that either. “I just wanted to hear how you were doing,” she said. “Did everything go all right today?”

“Yes, thank you for asking. The Doctor gave me some truly vile food to try—I think he called it a ‘nutritional supplement’—and then let me work out a bit. I’ve been spending the last few hours doing historical research.” There was a pause. “Or, according to your theory, non-linear temporal research. You’re right, humanity has done some amazing things. Other things are somewhat…less impressive, and some are downright shocking.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one thing, who would have ever thought Britney Spears would be remembered as one of the top music icons of the twenty-first century? Now, I was only around for a few months of that century, but that was enough to know that she certainly didn’t deserve to be in the history books. I’m sure that every music critic from my time is rolling in his or her respective grave right now.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that phrase.”

“Oh, right; sorry. It means that they would be completely appalled.”

Janeway laughed. Lynne surprised her, and for a woman who made her living by being able to predict the thoughts and behaviors of others, this was refreshing. She certainly hadn’t expected Lynne to be spending her time analyzing the relative merits of music that had survived into the twenty-fourth century. “Well, at least we still have Mahler and Tchaikovsky,” she said.

Lynne sounded excited. “You do? Really? How can I find that?”

“Are you a classical music lover?”

“Yes, I am, and a little bit of familiarity would mean a lot right now.”

Janeway chastised herself for not thinking of this angle earlier. After all, music was one of the few things that could connect Lynne’s time with the present. “The music files are in the ship’s database. Simply ask your computer to play a selection by name. Your quarters have a built-in audio system.”

“Excellent! I can’t wait to try it. Thank you, Captain. Was there anything else?”

Janeway had just begun to settle into the conversation and was surprised at its sudden ending. “No,” she said. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well. If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to call me. Enjoy your music and have a good night.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“Janeway out.” Janeway took off her comm badge, stared at it for a moment and then set it on the coffee table. Lynne sounded as if she was doing quite well, and Janeway was glad to hear it. But she also felt as if she’d been rejected in some subtle way. Nobody on Voyager ever made her feel that way, but then, everyone else on Voyager treated her like the captain. Lynne apparently did not fully understand the distinction, and that was part of her appeal. On the other hand, being dismissed was something Janeway was not used to and did not particularly appreciate.

Deciding that some relaxation was in order, Janeway called up a music selection. She told herself it was only a coincidence that she felt like listening to classical.

 

 

-----

 

 

Nearly a week passed before Janeway saw Lynne again. Voyager had encountered a planet inhabited by warp-capable beings, who were both friendly and inclined to trade. Several days of drawn-out negotiations and barter had resulted in the ship’s holds being filled with supplies, and B’Elanna was pleased with her procurement of some much-needed equipment that could be modified to fit the ship’s systems. By the time the transactions were complete, Janeway was very tired from the endless days of diplomatic entertainment and negotiations. She had checked in with the Doctor on Lynne’s status every day, and had managed several short comm link conversations with her new passenger, but had no time for further contact. When Voyager finally broke orbit, she was in her ready room, wrapping up her log entry and thinking that she really should stop by to see Lynne before collapsing in her own quarters. She was just logging off her computer when her door chimed.

“Come,” she called, reconciling herself to yet another demand on her time. But her weariness was forgotten when Lynne Hamilton walked into the room.

“Lynne! Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“Hello, Captain,” said Lynne, taking the seat across the desk. “The Doctor says you’ve been busy these last several days, and I really didn’t want to disturb you, but…” She cut herself off and looked more closely at Janeway. “Wow, you look exhausted.”

“Thank you very much for noticing,” said Janeway, who was amused by the less than diplomatic observation. “Most people wouldn’t find it necessary to tell me.”

Lynne had the grace to blush. “I’m sorry, that was tactless, wasn’t it? It’s just that you and the Doctor are practically the only people I know on this ship, and…well, how you’re feeling matters to me.”

Disarmed by this frank explanation, Janeway sat back in her chair. Mentally she made a note that it was well past time to introduce Lynne to more of the crew. “Thank you,” she said, this time without a trace of irony. “That’s kind of you. Now, you must have had some reason for coming here other than checking up on my health.” She smiled, letting her visitor know that she wasn’t offended.

Lynne responded with that half-smile that seemed to be characteristic of her. “Yes, I did. I came to ask you for a job.”

This was completely unexpected. “A job?”

“Well, this is an inauspicious beginning.”

Caught, Janeway immediately altered her body language, straightening up and giving Lynne her full attention. “My apologies; I don’t often get job applicants. Tell me what you had in mind.”

Now it was Lynne’s turn to lean back in her chair, and Janeway, always tuned to the subtleties of physical cues, noted that her guest had neatly turned the moment to her advantage. Then she listened with growing concern and understanding as Lynne explained.

“Captain, I need something to do. I’ve worked my whole life, and being productive and valuable in some way has always been important to me. For the last several years I’ve taught outdoor education, and I often thought that if I ever won the lottery, I’d keep teaching anyway—my work was very rewarding and I couldn’t imagine not doing it.” She looked down at her hands, clasped together on her lap. When she looked up again her face was completely serious. “And now I find myself in a situation where my past experience and training mean absolutely nothing. At first I thought I didn’t have anything to offer you or this ship, and that thought was pure hell. The idea of just hanging around as a passenger, not doing anything of value, probably for the rest of my life—it’s unthinkable. It’s like a slow death. But as I’ve been going through your historical records over the past week, I realized that I do have something to offer after all.”

“And that is?”

“An accurate knowledge of history. Do you remember when I said that Britney Spears was certainly not the music icon of the twenty-first century?”

“Yes.” Janeway could easily recall the indignation in Lynne’s voice.

“Well, after I read up on history from 2001 forward, I decided to go from 2001 backwards. And I found that Britney Spears was just the tip of the iceberg. Captain, your history records are inaccurate. I mean, you’ve got the right winners of the various wars and all of the indisputable, big facts right, but the smaller things have been distorted. I’m a history buff in my spare time, and I can help you set the record straight.”

Janeway sat back again, considering both the offer and the less obvious plea for help. Lynne’s idea made sense, and truly, she would be a precious resource for researchers of Earth history and sociological archeology. The only problem was, she didn’t have any of those on Voyager. But she’d have to think of a way to take advantage of this woman’s skills somehow—her statement that idleness was like a slow death struck a sympathetic chord in the captain. She understood that, although Lynne’s physical recovery was proceeding nicely, her mental recovery would stall or regress if a way couldn’t be found to keep that active mind busy.

“I don’t doubt our records are somewhat…imperfect,” she said. “And you certainly do have something to offer. A great deal, actually—you’re unique in your understanding of twentieth century history. How we can best put that understanding to use is something I’d like to think about for a while. Give me a little time, and I’ll contact you when I’ve made a decision.”

A look of mixed relief and gratitude crossed Lynne’s face. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. And I know you’re busy, so I won’t take any more of your time. Have a good evening.” She rose from her seat and paused, raising one eyebrow. “And Captain—take it easy tonight. You could use some rest.” She nodded a farewell and moved away.

Janeway was so startled by the novel experience of a passenger giving her an order, even a well-meaning one, that she sat unmoving for a moment. She didn’t know how to respond. If Lynne had been a crewmember, Janeway would have put her in her place immediately—but then, if Lynne were a crewmember she’d never have dared such familiarity. Even Chakotay, the one crewmember who could occasionally speak in such familiar terms, did so very rarely—and never in quite the casual way that Lynne just had.

Lynne had almost made it to the door when Janeway came out of her shock.

“Lynne,” she said, standing up. Lynne stopped and looked back at her inquiringly. The expression on her face caused Janeway’s half-formed reprimand to die on her lips. The woman obviously had no idea she’d done anything out of line and was not expecting any sort of reminder of the captain’s status, no matter how gently Janeway had intended to deliver it. Janeway found that she simply couldn’t bring herself to say the words that would cause that face to fall. Instead, she said the next thing that came to mind.

“Did you find Mahler and Tchaikovsky?”

Lynne’s face lit up and she gave Janeway a rare full smile. “Even better. I found Dvorak. His New World Symphony is one of my favorites, and I can’t tell you what it meant to hear that music again. It’s like a lifeline to my past—something familiar to hang on to. Thank you for mentioning it to me.”

Janeway felt inordinately pleased that she’d been able to help, and even more so that she’d caused one of those full smiles. “You’re more than welcome. I’m a fan of classical music myself, though I don’t think I’ve heard that particular symphony.”

“Oh, you should give it a try. It’s wonderful.” For a moment her gaze was distant. “I have a lot of memories associated with that piece. That’s always been the power of music for me—its ability to evoke memories and feelings.”

“Fortunately,” said Janeway, “some things don’t change with time.”

“Thank god for that,” Lynne agreed. With a nod, she turned and left.

When the ready room door closed behind her, Janeway stared at it for a few moments before shaking her head and returning to her desk. That conversation hadn’t gone at all like she might have expected. What would she do the next time Lynne assumed such familiarity?

Not having a ready answer, she dismissed the question for now. Besides, she had a bigger problem to consider at the moment.

She tapped her comm badge. “Chakotay, please report to my ready room.”

It was time to have a chat about personnel and job assignments.

 

 

-----

 

 

At Chakotay’s suggestion, the archeology department had been informed of Lynne’s offer. This was an underutilized part of Voyager’s science team, since the ship rarely had the leisure or opportunity to gather information on past cultures; if they gathered anything, it was usually intelligence or supplies. Two members of the department, Crewmen Johnson and Slater, had jumped at the chance to work with “a living history book,” as Mr. Johnson had put it. Earth history wasn’t their specialty, but they both felt that the opportunity was too important not to take advantage of it. Lynne was introduced to them the next day, and the first weekly departmental report after that event communicated a palpable excitement at their progress.

“Ms. Hamilton is proving to be a unique and exceptionally valuable resource. On her first day, she stated that all historians are biased in some way, and that she would be no different. She cautioned us to remember that anything she said would be colored by her own beliefs and experiences, but that she would do her best to present all sides of the issues and be as fair as possible. She has been true to her word. Our discussions have been fascinating, and we do not exaggerate when we say that this research is priceless to a modern understanding of twentieth-century Earth history.”

Janeway put down the PADD and allowed herself a moment of quiet triumph. Lynne was not only being useful; she had quickly made herself the star of the archeology department. The two scientists were thrilled to have a project they could dig into, and the whole affair had been resolved nicely to the benefit of both parties. If only all of her problems could be solved so beautifully.

She spent the next several hours reading departmental reports, and was deep into the engineering report when a beep from her console alerted her to an incoming message. She was surprised to see that it was from Lynne.

 

Dear Captain,

I am unsure of the protocols involved in contacting or interacting with you, so please forgive me if this is inappropriate—but I wondered if you would like to share a lunch with me. Perhaps in the mess hall tomorrow?

Sincerely, Lynne Hamilton

 

Janeway smiled. The note was charming, and no one else on board Voyager would have dreamed of writing it. It had been several days since she’d last spoken with the woman, and it was certainly time that she brought herself up to speed on her progress. But not in the mess hall. She keyed the computer for a reply.

 

Lynne,

I would indeed enjoy sharing a meal with you, but may I suggest dinner in my quarters instead? Perhaps you could meet me there at 1800 hours tomorrow. I hope you like peanut butter.

Captain Janeway

 

The last sentence was an inside joke that anyone else in the crew would understand. She knew she’d have to explain it to Lynne, but that would be an excellent conversation opener. Especially if her replicator gave her any trouble.

 

 

 

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