• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

"Any new theories?" Janeway asked, not expecting a response. Seven and Torres exchanged glances, but were silent. The nature of wormholes was still

something of a mystery, though they were certainly not unknown phenomena. But the plethora of wormholes they were witnessing was unheard of in Janeway's experience. She herself had seen over a hundred. Now, Seven's graph showed many times that number.

"Perhaps," said Torres slowly, "we're entering some sort of field where the wormholes are more frequent."

"The elephant graveyard of wormholes, eh?" Janeway smiled. "It's possible. Though I think it's one heck of a coincidence that our path through this sector is taking us so directly through that field."

She stepped forward, craning her neck, as if simply being closer to the chart would bring her some enlightenment. "No, B'Elanna. Good guess, but no. It's almost more like... as if it's cause and effect."

"You believe we are being followed by wormholes?" The scorn in Seven's voice was palpable. Her blue eyes were wide with disbelief.

"When you put it that way, it does sound foolish," her captain admitted, biting back an angry retort. Her emotions, perhaps because of the nightmare, were more raw than usual. "But look at it. Put aside logic for a moment and just... look at it."

She pointed. "There-back when they started appearing. See how random they are? Now, let's look here-just a week ago. Much more precise-the wormholes are almost in a line themselves. And now they're all over the place. They're literally surrounding us."

She said no more, and let the other two women

see for themselves. B'Elanna frowned even more, and a growing unease spread across Seven's beautiful face.

They saw it too, now.

And it was scaring them just like it was scaring Janeway, though none of them would ever admit it.

Janeway's headache, banished by her distraction for a few moments, returned, throbbing angrily in the right temple. She resisted the urge to press her fingers to it. Doing so never helped. Nothing ever helped, not the Doctor's too-vigorous massages, nor the medicine he prescribed, nor a trip to the holodeck. And these strange, unsettling wormhole manifestations only made her tension worse.

The mystery was taking its toll on the crew as well, from what Janeway could judge. She'd heard Tom Paris and Harry Kim, normally the best of friends, quarreling rather bitterly after a holodeck jaunt a few weeks ago, and even Chakotay-gentle, strong Chakotay-had dressed down an ensign for a minor miscalculation at the helm the other day.

Torres had been complaining, vocally, about the seemingly endless small things that had been going wrong with Voyager lately-a jammed coupling here, a sluggish plasma venting there. Tiny things, but Janeway could sympathize. A thousand little annoyances were sometimes worse than a real crisis. At least with a crisis, you could focus.

And then there were the nightmares.

Just the recollection made her jaw clench. Janeway had not shared her nocturnal terrors with

anyone else, not even the Doctor, who would never dream of violating patient-doctor confidentiality. Not yet, anyway. She'd thought about it If they got bad enough, she'd have to talk with him. A captain's bad dreams could turn into nightmares for her crew if left unaddressed. But right now, Janeway felt that she could handle it. Some things were just too personal-too intimate.

Janeway took a deep bream, held it, and tried to calm herself. Concentration was what was called for here if they were to get to the bottom of this.

She tapped her combadge. "Janeway to senior staff," she said. "Everyone meet me in my ready room in five minutes."

"These late hours are wreaking havoc with my beauty sleep," quipped Ensign Tom Paris as he entered the ready room. His eyes were bleary and his grin looked forced.

"Yeah," replied Torres, without even looking up. "You look like hell, Tom."

"Why, thank you, sweetheart, and might I return the compliment?"

Tom's voice was