String Theory_ Fusion (Book 2) - Kirsten Beyer [143]
“And if the captain did succeed in opening some kind of direct conduit between our space and Exosia…” B’Elanna picked up.
“A similar effect was observed. For a brief moment all photonic energy present in the vicinity of the conduit might also have been pulled into Exosia,” he concluded.
“I’ll do an astrometric scan,” B’Elanna said. “If the microsingularity is producing the same effect as the dissonance wave… it might… I don’t know…” She trailed off.
“Give us a place to begin to get a better understanding of this system,” Chakotay suggested. “If the Doctor’s program was taken intact into Exosia, we might still be able to find him and get him back.”
B’Elanna paused before asking, “Should we alter course and just begin our examination of the microsingularity now?”
It was a painfully difficult choice. The captain had been unconscious since her return from the array. She was still in sickbay, where Seven of Nine was doing all she could to stabilize the captain’s condition, but every moment that went by without the Doctor was one more moment lost in the battle to save her. On the other hand, Voyager was also missing her best pilot and senior ops officer. No one-least of all B’Elanna, Chakotay realized-was anxious to see that priority dropped down a peg either.
“Maintain course for now,” he replied. “But let me know what the sensors show. If there’s reason to alter course then, I’ll consider it.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Have the sensors picked up any evidence of further Nacene activity?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head.
“Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?” he offered.
He looked back at the computer station on the desk. He needed to finish that log, but for the moment simply couldn’t face it.
“If you need me, I’ll be in sickbay,” he said.
B’Elanna nodded mutely as he left.
When he arrived, he was somewhat surprised to see Tuvok standing beside the captain’s motionless form. Seven of Nine stood opposite him, indicating a reading on the neural monitor that suggested minimal brain activity.
“Commander,” Seven greeted him, “there has been no change in the captain’s condition since my last report.”
“Thank you, Seven,” he said, joining them. “I know you’re doing all you can.”
“She is stable, for the moment. But she has suffered severe neurological damage. I have thoroughly studied the ship’s medical database and do not believe it will be possible to reverse her injuries. We can continue to artificially support her body’s systems indefinitely, but she is, to all intents and purposes, brain-dead.”
Chakotay nodded, his jaw clenching involuntarily as his stomach churned.
“Do you have anything to add, Tuvok?” he asked.
“Only that while I did not wish to see the captain come to harm, I am certain that her sacrifice was not in vain.”
Chakotay locked eyes with Tuvok. At some point, many, many years from now, he might find this thought comforting. But for the moment, he was struck with an intense irrational desire to wring the Vulcan’s neck.
Tuvok did not miss the hostility flaring in Chakotay’s eyes, but was, of course, unaffected by it.
“If the captain was successful in opening the conduit between our space and Exosia, the Monorhans who had been transformed aboard the array were able to pass through into the existence for which they were meant. They are now at peace.”
“And how do you suppose the Nacene feel about that?” Chakotay demanded harshly.
“I cannot speculate,” Tuvok replied. “They are a complex species, and I do not believe our limited understanding of their actions or their nature suggests any conclusive answers to that question at this time.”
“Of course, we don’t know if the captain succeeded,” Chakotay said bitterly. “We may never know.”
“That is not entirely true, Commander,” Tuvok contradicted him.
“What do you mean?”
“The Monorhans were not bound by the physical constraints of the array. They remained there by choice. Though most of them would surely have died