STAR TREK - VOY - 06 - The Murdered Sun

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Star Trek - Voy - 006 - The Murdered Sun
by: Christie Golden
Copyright 1996
CHAPTER 1
It was never truly silent aboard the Starship Voyager. There was always far too much going on for
that--the activities of the crew at all hours, whether on duty or off; the constant faint sounds of machinery
operating smoothly and efficiently as it had been designed to do. These were all sounds that Kathryn
Janeway had learned to know and love through years aboard starships, serving in one capacity or
another as she forged a career that had earned her this command, this ship, this crew.
She shifted in the smooth, dark blue sheets, trying to mentally transform the faint, constant hum of her
ship into the comforting white noise that had so often eased her insomnia into much-needed rest. But it
did not seem that it was going to happen tonight.
She buried her face against the pillow, trying to shut off her mind, which insisted on working busily even
though the timecounter told her it was 02:32.
Her mind did not cooperate. It persisted in finding things to seize on and gnaw at worriedly. Janeway
smiled a little at the image; it reminded her of Molly Malone, when that faithful dog had gotten hold of one
of Mark's shoes and decided that it made the finest plaything in the world.
The smile faded. Mark I miss you. Every night, as she prepared for sleep, Janeway promised herself
sternly that she would not wear the smooth pink satin nightgown Mark had given her as a going-away
present.
She did not need the unnecessary physical token. It only sharply reminded her of all that she and her
crew had been ripped away from.
She told herself this quite brusquely. Yet every night, she disobeyed her own orders, donning the sleek
garment and brushing out her long hair while staring at a picture of a smiling Mark and a grinning,
tongue-lolling Irish setter.
By day, busy with either major or minor activities, Janeway could banish intrusive thoughts of her loved
ones to the back of her mind.
There was certainly an overabundance of things to do, plenty of problems to solve, more than enough
people to worry about on this, perhaps the strangest mission upon which a Starfleet vessel had ever
embarked. But at night... Ah, at night, alone in her too large bed in her too empty quarters, her own
worries and needs crowded upon her and would not let her be.
Janeway grimaced at her own melancholia. This is ridiculous. If I can't sleep, I might as well get up and
do something.
She sat up, reached for a brush, and began brushing her reddish brown mane into obedience.
"Computer," she called, "what is the status of holodeck one?"
"Holodeck one is not in use," replied the computer in its prim, crisp female voice.
"Then reserve it for my use," said Janeway. She swung her legs out of bed. Normally, she'd continue the
conversation, asking the computer to replicate a specific costume. But in the months since the mysterious
Caretaker had brought them to this quadrant, she had taken to keeping outfits rather than unduly taxing
the replicator. It was an order she had issued almost at once. It was a good thing that the holodeck's
energy did not have to be rationed, and she did not begrudge her strained, hard-working crew
appropriate attire for the mental and physical exercises a jaunt on the holodeck provided, but for the
foreseeable future they'd have to do as they did in "olden days" and take care of the clothing they did
have.
Which suddenly makes closet space a premium, she mused wryly as she looked over her collection of
costumes.
A ball gown from Earth's Regency period in England. A muslin dress from that same planet's western
pioneer days. The sleek, inviting garb of a Marillian gem trader. The prim, proper garb of a British
governess. She shook her head. None of these suited her present brooding state of mind.
"I want to fight something," she announced aloud. She had just found the perfect outfit--the garb of a
twenty-second-century Orion pirate--when Tuvok's calm voice broke her mood.
"Tuvok to Janeway."
Instantly alert, Janeway absently rehung the forgotten garb.
"Janeway here." Her voice was crisp, in control once again, her fleeting depression banished as always
before the overwhelming need of performing her duty. "What is it, Mr. Tuvok?"
"I apologize for disturbing you during your off shift, Captain, but we have picked up some signals that
are... most interesting.
I suggest you come up to the bridge and examine them for yourself."
Before he had even finished speaking, Janeway had seized one of her uniforms. She laid it on the bed,
her long fingers working nimbly to gather up her thick mass of hair, twist it, and pin it into place.
There was no trace of self-pity on her features now.
Her eyes snapped with excitement even as she tried to quell the hope that bubbled within her.
She had not served with the Vulcan this long without learning to decipher the subtle inflections of his
almost purring voice. He had at least a dozen different ways of saying interesting, and by the way he'd
pronounced it just now, there might be something to look forward to when she reached the bridge.
She forced the excitement out of her own voice as she replied, "I'm on my way."
***
A flash of amber eyes lit with warm amusement. A quick flick of gray tail, the smell of musk, the soft
sound of wise feet on green grass.
She had come for him again tonight, and Chakotay, his lids tightly dosed over his rapidly moving eyes,
rose in his dream state and followed her silent call.
He rose without moving from the bed, his mind following even as his body slept deeply, restfully. She
seemed always to send revitalizing sleep when she came to visit.
He stood, his brown body fit and firm, clothed only in the loincloth of his ancestors, and smiled down
with respect and love at the animal spirit who waited for him. Though it was dark in this dreamscape, a
verdant forest illuminated only by a quarter moon, Chakotay knew the place well. He could come here
by quiet meditation on his own, by day or night, in any season. For tonight's tryst, she had brought him a
summer evening, and Chakotay closed his dark eyes and breathed deeply the heady scents of
honeysuckle and cool moss, the furry musk of the unseen creatures who shared the realm of the
subconscious with him.
It was real, yet it was only in his mind. Janeway had never said anything, but he suspected that she had
problems understanding that the animal guides were very real and, at the same time, solely a product of
one's inner consciousness. Most who were not of Chakotay's people had problems with that concept. Of
all the crew, Chakotay suspected that only Tuvok, the Vulcan, whose own people had spent centuries
unlocking the secret powers of the mind, could really understand that the two realities were not
diametrically opposed. But then again, Tuvok would never admit to the powerful, primal joy that surged
through one who was visited by an animal spirit.
Connections. It was all about connections, with oneself, one's totem, one's people, one's friends, one's
world... one's universe.
But right now, with the cool night wind in his face, the wet grass beneath his feet. and his friend waiting
for him with her lambent yellow eyes, Chakotay wasn't concerned with connections or concepts.
He just wanted to run. And so he did, his bare feet flying across the grass and stone and leaves without a
care, for there was nothing here that would harm him and he knew it. Silent as a shadow, she moderated
her swift lope to keep pace with him.
Together, with stars he had seen in no sky outside of his own mind sparkling overhead, they ran.
Chakotay's skin began to glisten with sweat and dew. His breathing came hard, but he kept moving, his
strong limbs pumping. Laughing kindly, her tongue lolling from her own exertions, she ran with him until at
last they came to an open meadow, and Chakotay, gasping for breath, staggered to a halt and collapsed
in the welcoming, cooling grass.
He rolled over onto his back and she joined him, plopping herself down and rolling happily as if she were
a mere newborn. He laughed and reached for her. Her gray fur almost glowing in the soft radiance of the
moon, she snuggled into his loving embrace, placing her beautifully shaped head on his chest.
But she did not fully relax, and after a moment, he thought to her: What is wrong, my friend?
Nothing is wrong, she replied without a sound. But there will not always be time for mirth and laughter,
my playmate and friend.
Tell me. Chakotay sat up, reaching to touch the animal spirit behind the ears in a gentle gesture.
She fixed him with her keen gaze. You are a teacher. You are also a student. You teach the ways of your
people. That is easy to do. What is harder to do is to be wise and teach me the ways of people you do
not know.
Chakotay shook his head, not comprehending. But how do I teach what I do not know?
The amber eyes narrowed, and he knew she was laughing. That is the challenge, is it not?
He had just opened his mouth to reply when a sharp whistle sounded--in his real ears, not inside his
head. The dreamscape vanished, dissipating like the sand paintings of the Navajo at the end of the Sing.
Chakotay opened his eyes, calm, fully awake, in his own quarters.
"All senior officers, report to the bridge at once."
Janeway's voice. Tense. Hopeful? He wouldn't know till he reached the bridge. The dream and his
friend's typically cryptic advice would have to wait.
***
By the time the complete senior staff had assembled on the bridge, which was still dimly lit in deference to
the early hour, Janeway was experiencing a sinking feeling of deja vu.
There it was on Tuvok's console, a subspace disturbance that was, as of yet, only registering on
subspace bands. All the necessary ingredients for a typical wormhole seemed to be present: verteron
emanations, tanali secondary particles. All the things that Ensign Harry Kim, fresh faced and hopeful, had
found once before.
That incident had led to an almost excruciating disappointment.
As she met Tuvok's dark brown eyes, she read caution in their depths.
She didn't need the warning. She'd once encouraged hope above all else. Hope did need to spring
eternal aboard the Voyager, but it needed to be tempered by prudence.
"Full illumination." she told the computer, which obliged by instantly raising the lights. There could be no
true night on a starship, of course; the difference between "night" and "day" was purely artificial, but the
regular cycles provided a sense of comfort and stability to a largely human crew used to normal planetary
cycles. The crew on duty, other than the senior officers, were the third shift, but they would operate more
efficiently in "daylight."
Chakotay and Paris entered the bridge together. Janeway allowed herself a slight spark of pleasure. They
were getting along much better these days, the big Indian and the slim, cocky youth--just like two senior
officers should. Curiosity burned in both blue and brown orbs as they glanced over at her. She waved
them forward and let them see what she had seen, saw the glances that passed between them, knew that
they were thinking exactly what she had thought.
Harry Kim had already examined the evidence and was at his station with it pulled up on his own screen.
He looked as if he were trying to be stoic, and indeed a hint of remembered disappointment sat upon his
open, friendly features.
Sensors also showed that the solar system in which it was located had a star and several planetary
bodies, but those were of secondary importance to Janeway at the moment.
"As you can see, gentlemen," said Janeway, "it's got all the earmarks of a wormhole. This," she said,
tapping a graphic, "is what worries me."
They could all see the analysis the computer had provided: an indication of heavy gamma and X-ray
activity along with a great deal of degenerate matter. Chakotay's face, like Tuvok's, revealed little
emotion, but Janeway saw the concern fall like a hawk's shadow across the dark Indian features.
Tom Paris, on the other hand, tried hard to look wise, but by the way he kept glancing back and forth at
the others, Janeway knew that he wasn't quite putting two and two together. She suspected that Paris,
capable and occasionally brilliant as he was, hadn't put studying first on his priority list at Starfleet
Academy.
"This sort of activity generally indicates a black hole rather than a wormhole," she explained.
"Although the readings for the two phenomena are not entirely dissimilar," put in Tuvok. "For many
decades it was widely believed that a wormhole could not exist outside of a black hole."
Paris snorted slightly. "A wormhole inside a black hole is about as helpful as no wormhole at all. We
might get back to the Alpha Quadrant, but we'd be an awful mess by the time we got there."
Janeway strode down to her chair and seated herself, crossing her legs and settling in. "Lieutenant Paris
does have a point.
We've been closer than we'd like to singularities before," she said.
"Mr. Kim, how far out of our way would following up on this take us?"
Kim glanced down. "Not far at all, Captain. We're almost heading directly for it as is."
Janeway made her decision. "Then let's go check it out. Mr. Paris, make adjustments to our course and
take us to it."
Paris was already in his seat, his knowledgeable fingers flying with practiced ease over the controls.
"Course adjusted, Captain."
Janeway stifled a yawn. "Let's go slowly. Drop to warp two.
Mr. Kim, keep your eyes glued to your controls. I want to be able to see that thing coming long before
we get anywhere near it, is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am--Captain," Kim hastily corrected. Janeway didn't glance back at her Operations officer; she
didn't need to see him to know that he'd be blushing at his slip of the tongue. Janeway always preferred
"Captain" to "ma'am."
She settled down to wait. After a while, Janeway fought back another yawn. Now that the initial
excitement was fading, she realized just how tired she was from a long night of... well, of not sleeping.
She had just risen, about to give Chakotay the bridge and head into her ready room for an increasingly
rare cup of hot black coffee, when Kim's voice halted her.
"Captain... I'm picking up readings of debris ahead."
"Slow to impulse. Put it on screen." At first glance, there appeared to be nothing other than the
comforting, familiar starfield.
"Magnify."
Now Janeway and the others could see them--the blasted, broken remains of what had once been
vessels of some sort. Engrossed, Janeway leaned forward in her chair.
"I don't like the look of this. Not one bit." She hit her comm badge.
"Janeway to Neelix." There was a long pause. "Neelix, come in please."
"Captain," came the Talaxian's normally chipper voice, thick and slurry with sleep, "do you have any idea
what time it is?"
She heard a chuckle from Tom Paris, but she wasn't amused at all.
"It's time for you to come up to the bridge and answer some questions for me," she retorted, an irritated
edge creeping into her voice.
There was a soft, female murmur--Kes's quiet voice, doubtless urging him to comply--and finally Neelix
growled, "Very well. On my way."
Janeway stood and planted her hands on her hips, her chin tilted up in an unconscious gesture of
defiance. She strode toward the screen, her gaze roving over the corpses of ships whose pilots and crew
had long since disappeared. They whirled past the Voyager in the cold silence of space, drifting close to
the ship's shields before being gently repelled.
"Mr. Tuvok, analysis." She did not take her eyes from the screen.
"Some of this debris has been floating here for a very long time," replied the Vulcan, his alert mind
working and analyzing almost as swiftly as the computer. "The further we go toward this disturbance, the
newer the debris becomes. Judging from the rate of drift, I would estimate that all of these ships met their
fate in Section 4039."
"Directly where we're heading," said Chakotay softly.
"Precisely." Tuvok's smooth, dark face was as tranquil as if he had just emerged from a deep meditation.
Janeway envied him his composure. She took a deep breath. "How technologically advanced are these
ships? Any theories as to what destroyed them?"
"If you are asking if our vessel is technologically superior, the answer is yes. I am unable to determine the
method of their destruction at the present time. I do not have enough information to extrapolate."
"Captain," interrupted Kim, "we're being hailed. There's some sort of vessel up ahead--about twenty
thousand kilometers away."
"On screen." There it was, a knobby, diamond-shaped buoy made of a dull gray material. "Where the
hell is Neelix when you need--there you are!"
Neelix still looked as if he had just woken up. His horsetail hair was unbrushed and stuck out wildly, and
the side whiskers that were his pride and joy had not been combed. He blinked sleepily, but he was,
fortunately, adequately dressed.
"Yes, yes," he grumbled, padding down to join Janeway in front of the screen, "here I am, at your beck
and--oh, my."
He froze as he glanced casually up at the screen. His small, yellow eyes grew enormous, and his mouth
dropped.
"Open a hailing frequency, Mr. Kim," said Janeway, her mental warning alarms going off like mad. "Let's
see what this buoy has to say to us."
Kim obliged. There was a few seconds' silence while the translator speedily dealt with deciphering a
completely unknown language by cross-referencing and adjusting faster than any human mind could
calculate. The quiet pause seemed unduly long to Janeway, but finally the computer was able to play the
message in English.
Words emerged, the computer rendering them neutral against the hostile sound of the speaker's natural
voice--a voice that was closer to an animal's bellow than to what issued from a human throat. The sound
rumbled, still audible beneath the message, deep and gravelly, as if the communication had been torn
from a throat that was more accustomed to roaring in wordless fury than in rasping out a coherent
message.
"Attention, alien vessel. You have violated Akerian space.
Retreat immediately. We will not tolerate trespassers. You will be destroyed. Attention, alien vessel. You
have violated Akerian space.
Retreat--" "Turn it off, Mr. Kim," snapped the captain. "I've heard enough." The unpleasant voice stilled
at once. Janeway leveled her piercing gaze upon the Talaxian, who almost literally shrank away from it.
"Neelix, I take it you know these... people."
Beneath his spots, the little alien grew pale. "Um, well, I've never had the dubious pleasure of actually
meeting an Akerian, if that's what you mean."
A vein pulsed in Janeway's temple, prompted by a dull pain. She really ought to have had a cup of coffee
if she expected to be fully awake at this hour. Knowing how clipped her voice sounded, she nevertheless
continued. "What do you know about them? You recognized this buoy."
She pointed at the lumpy metal object, still twirling in the silent darkness of space, presumably continuing
to emit its obstreperous message.
"Um... yes, yes, I do. They post these warning buoys at each quarter of their space. The Akerian Empire
is to be respected, Captain. I suggest you show some respect and vacate this sector." He paused.
"Immediately would be good."
"Neelix, we think there's a wormhole in this sector," Chakotay put in.
"We'll need to know more about them before we go anywhere." He glanced over at Janeway--Did I
overstep?--and she gave him a slight gesture of approval.
"Commander Chakotay is correct."
Neelix sighed and plopped himself down in the chair to Janeway's left.
His feet didn't even reach the floor. "Well, as I said, they're an empire. Their technology is about the level
of ours, though as I've often said, the Voyager is the finest vessel in a hundred light-years."
"Go ahead," said Janeway coolly. She was not about to be swayed by flattery.
He opened his mouth, closed it, thought, then resumed. "Let me put it to you this way. They are not
people one wants to cross.
The threat from that buoy was not idle. They would have no compunctions about murdering everyone on
board to protect their interests-and their interests just might include taking over this ship."
CHAPTER 2
Janeway barely had to call for a meeting before everyone hastened to the conference room. Chakotay
eased himself into a seat and sat silently while everyone filed in.
He watched their faces, as he knew Janeway was doing, as any captain worth his or her salt learned
quickly to do. Both he and Janeway were well-respected leaders of a largely contented crew.
He knew his own methods of dealing with his crew, and he'd had enough time to watch Janeway--even
as he knew she was watching him as well.
Some wore their emotions on their sleeves, like Ensign Kim and, on occasion, Tom Paris. Others, like
Tuvok and Chakotay himself, had learned to hood their feelings, though Chakotay was adept enough at
expressing himself should the occasion arise.
The windows were large in the conference room, and Chakotay turned his gaze momentarily upon the
starfield. Unbidden, her image rose in his mind. He could not help but wonder if her puzzling advice was
related to the new and apparently aggressive race whose warning buoy they had just encountered. As he
watched, his eyes not really focused on the stars, a huge chunk of a spaceship went slowly past the
window, turning end over end in a disturbing ballet.
The door hissed open one final time and B'Elanna Torres entered.
As usual, Torres was the last to arrive, having to come all the way from Engineering. She caught
Chakotay's gaze, but her own face was inscrutable. Graceful and slim despite the physical power granted
by her Klingon mother's blood, she slipped easily into a seat, folded her hands on the desk, and looked
toward Janeway expectantly.
"Here's the situation," said Janeway without preamble. "We've got indications that there might be a
wormhole in this sector.
We just encountered a warning buoy placed by a race calling themselves the Akerians, warning us not to
trespass. Mr. Neelix, please continue telling us what you know of the Akerians."
Neelix looked very uncomfortable. In his limited contact with the pudgy little alien, Chakotay had found
him extremely anxious to please.
The self-appointed "morale officer," the Talaxian liked nothing better than to cheer people up. Neelix
dreaded being the bearer of bad tidings, and now he fumbled for words.
"Well, as I told you on the bridge, they are an advanced culture.
They have formed the Akerian Empire, which consists of various planets they've conquered and, well,
shall we say... plundered, I suppose, is the term. Nobody knows for sure where their home planet
is--they are very territorial, hence the warning buoys."
"What do they look like?" asked Kim.
Neelix hesitated, then replied, "Well, I know they're bipedal.
Strong. And very tall."
"Humanoid?" queried Paris.
Neelix shrugged his shoulders. "Can't say for sure. Nobody knows much about them--only about the
damage they leave in their wake. They always wear masks--don't want their faces to be seen,
apparently.
Possibly humanoid, yes."
"Level of technological development?" put in Torres.
Chakotay felt a brief twinge of sympathy at Neelix's obvious discomfort. He'd been on the receiving end
of Torres's grilling style himself.
"Warp and shield capabilities. They have a unique sort of weaponry that seems to impact unshielded
ships and planets very harshly. And no, I don't know what type," he added, preempting Torres's next
question. The chief engineer glowered at him.
Neelix turned pleadingly toward the captain. "I strongly urge you to respect their boundaries, Captain,"
he said. "I'm not sure how badly they could hurt us, but I know that they can.
Can't we get what information we need from here about the wormhole?"
Janeway glanced over at Kim, who shook his head. "Impossible," said the ensign. "We'll need to be
much closer in order to get any readings that would be worthwhile--even to determine if the wormhole is
inside the black hole or not."
"I would like to reemphasize that all the spaceship debris we have encountered up to this point has been
from vessels inferior in construction to the Voyager," said Tuvok, his dark face as calm as if he had been
making idle conversation. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning the rest of them. "While this is far from
being a definite assessment of their power, it is certainly an indication of the type of vessels they have
encountered and subsequently been able to defeat."
Janeway leaned back in her chair, her eyes on the table.
Chakotay watched her intently, wondering if her mind, like his, was racing with a hundred thousand
scenarios of eventual encounter with this mysterious race that had gotten Neelix so agitated.
"Mr. Chakotay?"
Her sudden turn of attention to him forced the first officer to refocus his thoughts, but he recovered at
once. "It's a calculated risk," he said. "But then, so is every single move we make out here in the Delta
Quadrant. We're constantly facing the unknown. There's nothing to count on out here but ourselves and
our ship."
He leaned forward, his gaze locked with Janeway, but his words addressed to them all. "I say we
proceed but with caution. The wormhole--or black hole, whichever it turns out to be--is located in a
solar system with eight planets. Neelix doesn't know where the Akerians' home world is. I think there's a
good chance that the Akerian home world is one of these planets. Perhaps we should travel slowly,
constantly sending out a greeting. If the Akerians think we're looking for them in a peaceful fashion,
perhaps they will behave in the same manner. Let's give them no cause to perceive us as a threat."
He'd been watching Neelix out the corner of his eye as the Talaxian grew more and more agitated. Now
Neelix exploded with, "It doesn't matter to the empire if you're a Bekovian toth-eater with six-centimeter
fangs or a little bug on their nose, they're going to perceive you as a threat and deal with you
accordingly!"
"And just how is that, Neelix?" Tom Paris's face was all guileless innocence, save for the crafty smile that
quirked his lips and spoiled the illusion.
"I'm not the one who wants to find out, am I?"
Janeway sighed. "What I'm hearing from Mr. Kim is, we can't determine if that wormhole is or isn't a way
home by sitting here, correct?"
Kim nodded. "Yes, Captain."
"And Tuvok thinks that we'd be fairly safe if our unpleasant neighbors do show up."
"Correction," said Tuvok. "We have no specific reason to think we would not. However, there is always
the risk of danger in encountering a new race."
Chakotay smothered a smile. He had learned to respect Tuvok when the Vulcan had worked undercover
on Chakotay's Maquis vessel.
The respect continued, even when Tuvok had revealed the true nature of his mission.
"Well, it sounds to me like we should go ahead--cautiously. Any objections? Besides you, of course,
Neelix."
Chakotay glanced around the table. Nobody seemed inclined to disagree.
"Then let's do it." Janeway's cool expression melted into a warm smile that lit up her features. "It's the
best possibility to come our way in a long time. If there's a wormhole in that system, we're going to find it,
Akerians or no Akerians.
摘要：

StarTrek-Voy-006-TheMurderedSunby:ChristieGoldenCopyright1996CHAPTER1ItwasnevertrulysilentaboardtheStarshipVoyager.Therewasalwaysfartoomuchgoingonforthat--theactivitiesofthecrewatallhours,whetherondutyoroff;theconstantfaintsoundsofmachineryoperatingsmoothlyandefficientlyasithadbeendesignedtodo.These...

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