Atonement (9 page)

FIFTH SHUDKA

“Is this true?” Presider Cin demanded of Captain Chakotay.

“Yes, Presider,” he replied. “It has been confirmed by reports of two of our telepathic and empathic officers. It is the most logical explanation for the presence of the Vaadwaur, Turei, Devore, and Voth among the
Kinara
. The only thing these four species have in common is their shared mistrust of the Federation.

“The Neyser entity that possessed our hologram was thousands of years old. When she found herself alone in unfamiliar territory, she used the only data at her disposal to cobble together a group of some of the most powerful species in the quadrant. She might have been able to sway a single one to her cause if her diplomatic skills were sharp enough, but the only way all four would join her efforts is if she took control of at least one high-ranking official among them.”

“But if she is a hologram, how can she survive or exist outside of one of your holodecks?”

“A long time ago, we acquired an extremely advanced piece of technology that can contain and project an entire holographic matrix. That technology was duplicated and is at the heart of her program.”

“Which one is she?” Cin asked.

“We believe the entity we refer to as ‘Meegan' is currently projecting herself as the Voth minister. This suggests she probably had to kill the real Minister Odala, and it is likely the Voth aren't even aware of it.”

Chakotay looked back to the screen to see Kashyk raise a weapon and point it toward Meeml before the transmission began to distort as if suddenly jammed.

Cin did not
waste another moment before activating her comm system. “General Mattings,” she ordered, “disperse your protectors. Your first priority is to board the
Manticle
and ensure the survival of Admiral Janeway. Destroy any ship in the vicinity that hinders your efforts.”

“Understood, Presider,”
Mattings replied.

“General, this is Captain Chakotay.”

“Good to hear from you, Captain. I'm too busy to chat at the moment.”

“General, I wonder if you would be interested in continuing our officer-exchange program,” Chakotay said.

After only a moment's hesitation, Mattings asked,
“Which officer did you have in mind?”

“Me.”

Mattings chuckled.
“Your transporters or mine?”

“Mine,” Chakotay replied, and tapped his combadge, requesting transport to the
Calvert.

Placing a light hand on Chakotay's arm, Cin said, “Is there a reason you did not tell me as soon as you came aboard that you suspected the
Kinara
's leaders had been compromised by these Neyser?”

“When I first came aboard, all I knew for sure was that you had asked the commander of our fleet to help you open diplomatic relations with the
Kinara
and when the battle turned against you, your people sold her out to save your own lives.”

“And now?” Cin asked.

“My commanding officer just ordered me to do everything in my power to forget our past misunderstandings and find a peaceful way to resolve our differences. She chose to trust you with the truth. I may not always agree with her orders, but
as long as she lives
, I will follow them.”

Cin nodded. “Understood.”

Chakotay felt the transporter take hold. The next thing he knew, he was standing inside the command center of the
Third Calvert.

“Welcome aboard, Captain Chakotay,” Mattings greeted him.

EARTH ORBITAL CONTROL

C
adet
Icheb had arrived early for his new internship, a requirement of all cadets in their final year of study at the Academy.

Most days he found it hard to believe he was
still
a cadet, after the disaster of his first internship. Prior to returning to the Delta Quadrant, Admiral Janeway had advised him that she had personally requested Icheb be posted with Starfleet Medical. Seven was due to arrive there shortly and the admiral wanted Icheb nearby in case Seven had need of him.

After multiple attempts to contact Seven had gone unanswered, Icheb had illegally gained access to the classified division where he believed Seven was working. He had covered his tracks well, and his academic advisor had wanted to believe that Icheb's unauthorized security breach was the mistake he claimed.

Still, Icheb could not pass a superior officer at the Academy without wondering if the truth of his deception had finally come to light and his career with Starfleet was over before it had begun.

The only other consequence he had suffered was the termination of his post with Starfleet Medical. This had not surprised him, but it had added to his anxiety for Seven.

Icheb was no more suited to operate transporters than he had been to match requisitions and supplies, but he accepted his new post as the punishment it was, no doubt, intended to be.

It could have been much worse.

The cadet allowed this thought to steady him as he entered the secondary transporter operations bay that would be his station several hours per week for the remainder of the academic year. He was startled when the first face he saw upon entering was one he knew well: Commander Tom Paris,
Voyager
's first officer.

Paris was chatting amiably with a lieutenant commander who had clearly not taken Starfleet's mandate to maintain one's physical conditioning at near peak levels to heart. Ruddy faced and sporting at least a week's growth of white facial hair, the commander was fifteen kilos above optimum for his frame, and faint beads of perspiration dotting his forehead suggested that his cardio-vascular system was suffering as a result. He was also holding a bottle of bright green liquid with a festive bow fastened around it.

Both officers greeted him cheerfully as soon as they caught sight of him.

“Here he is now,” the heavyset officer said.

“I told you he'd be on time,” Paris remarked.

As required, Icheb stood at attention and announced himself. “Cadet Icheb, reporting for duty, sirs.”

“And a stickler for regulations, I see,” the lieutenant commander added.

“At ease, Cadet,” Paris said, stepping toward him and extending his hand. “It's good to see you again.”

Icheb accepted Paris's hand, saying, “I was not aware you had returned from the Delta Quadrant, Commander.”

“I came back with Seven and Doctor Sharak,” Paris said. “I had a personal matter to attend to.”

“I trust your family is well,” Icheb said, genuinely concerned.

“B'Elanna and Miral are fine,” Paris assured him. “And if all goes well, I'll be back with them a few months before our family gets bigger. B'Elanna is going to have another baby: a boy.”

“Congratulations, Commander. That is wonderful news,” Icheb said. “Please pass along my regards to them.”

“I will,” Paris promised. “And now, permit me to introduce you to your new taskmaster, Lieutenant Commander Rob Blayk.”

“Sir,” Icheb said, nodding sharply.

“Tom says you'll be capable of running this transporter room in a few days. I hope he's right.”

“I look forward to learning all you have to teach me, sir,” Icheb said.

Paris's smile faltered. “Blayk here is an old friend, Icheb. Our dads served together, so he's always been like a
much older
brother to me.”

“Not that much older,” Blayk insisted, punching Paris's upper arm with his brick-like fist. “Just don't ever make the mistake of playing pool with him, Cadet.”

Icheb tried to relax, to allow the easy banter between the two officers to calm him, but something in Paris's presence here was unnerving.

“Excuse me, won't you?” Blayk asked, starting toward the door behind Icheb, still holding the bottle that was likely a gift from Paris. “I need to hit the head.” Fixing his eyes briefly on Icheb, he said, “We're off rotation for the next three hours, so I can get you oriented. Unless Earth is suddenly invaded, no one is going to transmit any orders our way. Don't touch anything until I get back.”

“Of course not, sir,” Icheb said.

Paris's eyes held the same convivial cheer until the moment the door behind Blayk swished shut. Instantly, his demeanor shifted and he removed a padd from the pocket of his jacket.

“A letter from home,” Paris said softly.

Icheb was stunned. Paris could not mean his planet of origin. That was in the Delta Quadrant and no one on Brunali would have cause to contact him.

But he couldn't mean . . .

Icheb accepted the padd with hands that were suddenly shaking.

“I asked Blayk to request you,” Paris said quickly. “He's a nice guy who owes me lots of favors. That letter is personal, for your eyes only. Your family needs your help. I know you're capable of what we require. I also know if mistakes are made, your career is over. We wouldn't be asking if we had another choice.”

“Seven?”

Paris nodded.

Icheb's heart began to race with a combination of relief and fear. From the first moment, years earlier, when he had expressed interest in studying at the Academy, every single crew member aboard
Voyager
had
gone above and beyond the call to assist him in reaching that goal. Why now, when it was finally within reach, they seemed determined to scuttle it, he could not understand.

Except that he did.

Something was wrong. Seven was part of it. And she was the only real
family
he had ever known. Seven had risked her life to save his more than once. Everything he was or ever would be, he owed to her, and to the officers on
Voyager
who had taken the terrified former Borg boy and set him on the path to becoming a man worthy of their respect.

Icheb knew that whatever Paris was asking of him would be in the service of Starfleet's values, whether or not it fell absolutely within their regulations.

It wasn't that he looked forward to, once again, betraying the Academy's honor code. It was simply that his heart would not allow him to betray his family if they needed him.

“I will do my best, sir,” Icheb said.

Paris nodded. “I know.”

RUNABOUT
COLEMAN

Thus far, Commander Briggs had been as good as his word. Twenty-four hours after Seven had freed herself from stasis and
negotiated
the release of Riley's people, the
Coleman
had been designated for their use and readied for launch from McKinley Station.

Seven knew accommodations would be tight on the runabout. She transported aboard and was instantly assaulted by thirty-three pairs of eyes. These belonged to the former adult residents of Arehaz and all of them were wary. Most of the thirteen children of the former Borg were too young to take note of her arrival. Several squawked in protest from their parents' arms. Seven recognized the two oldest children, around three years of age, who had become Miral Paris's playmates for a short time aboard
Voyager.
One boy held tight to a worn, stuffed serpent.

A man dressed in the same gray utility trousers and shirt all
had been issued once they were brought out of stasis rose from one of the four long benches that had been added to the runabout's rear cabin as Seven started through the unhappy throng.

“Seven of Nine?” he asked.

Without intending to, Seven pulled his name from his mind. “Mister Nocks,” she greeted him.

“Where is Doctor Frazier?” he demanded.

“Riley has agreed to remain at Starfleet Medical for the next few weeks. You need not fear for her safety. That is my responsibility now.”

Keeping his voice low, Nocks said, “You'll forgive me if I don't find that particularly comforting.”

Seven resisted the defensiveness that rose automatically within her. It was much too soon to expect trust from any of these people. “I was unaware that Starfleet Medical would remove you from Arehaz. The moment I learned of it, I took appropriate actions to secure your release. I am taking all of you to a safe place. From there, I will work to find a more permanent home for you, but in the meantime, you must trust me.”

Nocks shrugged. “We will go where you take us for now. The rest . . .”

“Will take time,” Seven finished for him. “I know.”

The transporter sounded behind Seven as Nocks continued, “We can't stay like this for long,” indicating the extremely cramped conditions of the ship.

“You won't have to,” the cheery voice of Commander Tom Paris assured him. “Give us just a few minutes to check in with our crew, and we'll be under way.”

“How far away is our next
temporary
home?” Nocks asked bitterly.

“Not far,” Paris said kindly, placing a reassuring hand on Nocks's shoulder. “I know you've been through hell. That ends very soon. Excuse us, please,” he added, taking Seven firmly by the elbow and guiding her forward past the benches.

“Seven!” a familiar voice shouted as soon as she had crossed the threshold and entered the runabout's cockpit.

Before she could reply, Naomi Wildman practically knocked Seven over with the force of her embrace. Seven had not been expecting to see the young cadet and glanced furtively at Paris as she accepted the girl's affectionate hug.

“Don't suffocate her, honey,” a soft male voice suggested.

As Naomi stepped back, still keeping hold of both of Seven's hands and staring up at her with mingled relief and adoration, Seven nodded to the Ktarian man seated at the pilot's station. “Hello, Greskrendtregk. Thank you for agreeing to assist us.”

He smiled faintly in reply as Seven turned to Naomi and said, “Cadet Wildman, why are you not at the Academy?”

Naomi flushed. “I'm taking some time off,” she replied, stung.