Episode 42 - Macrocosm Part 1
Stardate: 41739.3
Earth Standard Date: September 27, 2364.
Voyager Standard Date: June 5, 2373.
Location: USS Enterprise-D, Orbiting Aucdet IX, Beta Quadrant
Commander Riker stood at the center of the Enterprise's bridge, his newly grown beard lending him a distinguished bearing. The viewscreen displayed the Excelsior-class USS Repulse keeping pace with them.
"Repulse shuttle has cleared docking bay three," the computer announced.
"Open hailing frequencies."
"Hailing frequencies opened," Worf confirmed.
"Repulse, this is the Enterprise. We are getting underway."
"Acknowledged, Enterprise. Transfer complete. Good luck on your mission."
"And to you."
"Give my regards to your Captain. Repulse out."
Wesley Crusher turned from his station. "Shuttlebay is secure, sir."
"Thank you, Mister Crusher. Make all preparations to get underway."
Inside his Ready Room, Picard held the transparent hexagonal container up to the light.
"We're constructing the enclosure on cargo deck five," Geordi explained.
The door chimed.
"Come."
Riker entered. "The transfer's complete. Doctor Pulaski is being shown to her quarters. We're ready to get underway."
"Grand. Take a look at the containment module Lieutenant La Forge has designed." Riker moved closer. "Each unit will have total environmental control. Gravity, temperature, atmosphere, light, all in a protective stasis field."
"And these get put into the large containment unit," Riker observed.
"Right. These modules keep the specimens alive, but this large containment area keeps us alive." Geordi gestured toward the container in Picard's hands. "Now, I have to replicate this five hundred and twelve times, which means I'll divert power from the warp engines to the replicator."
Picard set the module on his desk. "How long will we be on impulse power?"
"A couple of hours. Can't be helped."
"When we leave Audet Nine, I'll need all the power you can slam into those warp engines."
"You'll have it," Geordi assured him.
Picard settled into his chair. "I'll relieve you then, Number One. I believe you have a date."
"Tyson insisted we all have dinner together in the newly opened lounge."
The captain's eyebrows rose. "I'm intrigued and would very much like to meet this Empress. But I believe your evening will be complicated enough without another. Good luck, Will."
Riker's grin was equal parts anticipation and apprehension. "Thanks."
Commander Riker pressed the door chime and waited. The doors revealed Minuet in a flowing emerald dress that perfectly complemented her auburn hair. She smiled brightly. "Ready for our grand adventure?"
She slipped her arm through his as they began walking.
"That's one way to put it. I have to admit, I'm curious about this dinner myself. Tyson's been rather mysterious about the whole thing."
"I'm looking forward to meeting Tyson's girls. From what you've told me, they sound fascinating. A Vulcan and an Empress? That's quite a combination."
They turned toward the turbolift. Riker's expression grew more serious.
"You don't think it'll be uncomfortable? With Thomas there, and Deanna, and this other Deanna?"
Minuet stopped and turned to face him, her hand finding his. "Will, everything will be fine. But you need to stop thinking of Thomas as a copy of yourself. Think of him as your long-lost brother. You have so much to talk about, so much in common, from your childhood to your experiences. It'll go fine."
Riker nodded slowly, but his expression remained troubled. "I suppose you're right about Thomas. I'm just as worried about Deanna, and this other Deanna."
"Are you worried because of your past history?"
Riker stopped completely, meeting her gaze. "No, it's not that."
Minuet squeezed his hand gently. "I know you have strong feelings for me, but you can't ignore your history. I think that's why Tyson invited you all for this meeting. While it might be disastrous," she said with a laugh, "it might be a chance for you all to see that everything is okay."
Riker squeezed her hand and leaned down to kiss her softly. "What did I do to deserve you?"
"You asked for the right hologram to listen to you play," she replied with a playful wink. "And had a friend with the foresight to see what made you happy."
The doors slid open, revealing Ten-Forward. The main dining area was lined with sweeping windows offering a view of the stars. The right side had been converted into an intimate lounge area with plush seating arrangements and low tables surrounded by curved sofas. The central dining area featured tables of varying sizes, from intimate settings for two to a magnificent circular table that could seat twenty. The bar extended in a sweeping arc along the back wall, covered in shelves of bottles from across the galaxy. Soft conversations mixed with the gentle clink of glasses.
They spotted their destination quickly. At a table positioned to take advantage of both the stellar view and relative privacy, Thomas Riker and Deanna Troi sat in quiet conversation. Thomas wore civilian clothes, a simple dark shirt, while Deanna had chosen a medium-length dress in deep blue.
As they approached, both looked up. Thomas rose slightly in greeting, while Deanna's expression warmed.
Will took his seat across from Thomas, shaking his head with amusement. "Tyson invited us, and he's the last to arrive."
Thomas settled back with a rueful smile. "It's usually me."
Deanna turned to Minuet. "Hello, Minuet. It's wonderful to finally meet you properly."
"The pleasure is entirely mine, Deanna," Minuet replied, taking her seat beside Will. "I've heard so much about you. Will speaks of you with such fondness."
"As he should. We've shared quite a journey together."
Before the conversation could develop further, a figure with an elaborate hat approached their table.
"Good evening, everyone," she said. "I'm Guinan. I don't believe we've all been properly introduced." Her gaze settled on Minuet with obvious curiosity. "And I'm wondering if I can get any of you something to drink?"
The doors to Ten-Forward slid open once more, and Tyson entered with T'Pol at his side. The Vulcan woman's hair was pulled back as she'd been letting it grow out, and she wore her blue science uniform. Tyson wore casual civilian clothes, jeans and a white t-shirt, in the style from his time.
Guinan's demeanor changed instantly. Her friendly smile vanished, eyes narrowing as she tracked their movement across the room. The subtle shift in her posture was barely perceptible, but unmistakable.
They reached the table, and everyone exchanged greetings. Thomas stood partially, extending his hand to Tyson.
"Good to see you again."
"Likewise," Tyson replied, clasping the offered hand before turning to the others. "T'Pol, I'd like you to meet everyone."
T'Pol inclined her head slightly toward each person as Tyson made the introductions. Her acknowledgment of Deanna carried particular interest, as if studying the counselor's empathic abilities through observation alone.
Guinan remained quiet throughout the exchange, her previous gracious hospitality replaced by watchful silence. She stood at the edge of their gathering, hands folded, saying nothing.
Deanna looked around the expanded table, then back to Tyson. "So where is your empress?"
"She's coming with Vicky now. They should be here any moment."
As if summoned, the doors opened again. Vicky strode in, her pink hair done up in its usual twin buns. Beside her walked another woman who caused every conversation at nearby tables to pause.
Empress Deanna Troi wore a curvaceous black dress hugging her form in a way that spoke of power as much as beauty. Unlike Deanna, whose hair was tied up in its characteristic style, this woman's dark hair flowed freely down her shoulders. Her eyes held a calculating intelligence that seemed to catalog every detail of the room and its occupants in seconds.
Minuet watched the Empress enter and felt something complex unfold in her chest. It was strange, the emotions she felt since gaining this body. Not quite envy. She didn't want to be the Empress. Curiosity, certainly.
These were her choices now. Not programming. Not inevitability.
As they reached the table, Tyson stood. "Everyone, this is Empress Deanna Troi of the Terran Empire, and Vicky. Ladies, this is Deanna Troi, and Lieutenant Thomas Riker, and Commander William Riker and Minuet."
The Empress's gaze lingered on each person. When her eyes met those of the other Deanna, something passed between them; recognition, acknowledgment, or perhaps a telepathic exchange that went unheard.
Vicky's greeting was more straightforward, her smile genuine. "Pleasure to meet you all. Though I've met each of you before, even if indirectly."
As everyone settled into their seats, the arrangement naturally placed T'Pol and Empress Troi flanking Tyson.
Guinan finally spoke, her tone startlingly direct. "You don't belong here. None of you do."
She was looking pointedly at Tyson and the women around him, her gaze then shifting to include Thomas. The accusation transformed the atmosphere at the table from welcoming to tense in an instant.
Tyson leaned back, his expression thoughtful rather than defensive. "You're right. Things have changed."
Guinan didn't say anything more. She turned and walked away from their table.
Deanna watched the retreating figure with obvious concern. "What was that about?"
"If I'm not mistaken, Guinan is an El-Aurian," Tyson said. "Their species is particularly attuned to changes in the timeline. Changes like me being here, and everyone else who is attached to me. None of us would be here if I hadn't shown up, and she can sense it."
Will studied Tyson across the table, his expression troubled. "So you changed the timeline. Deliberately?"
"Not deliberately," Tyson replied carefully. "I didn't set out to alter how things were supposed to go. But yes, my presence has changed things. Thomas being rescued early, Minuet becoming real, the change of leadership in the Terran Empire, those are all consequences of the decisions I've made."
"Does that bother you?" Will asked. "Knowing that you've changed the lives of people who never asked for that intervention?"
Tyson was quiet for a moment, considering the question seriously. "Every day. I wonder if I had the right to do it, if the changes I'm making are improvements or just... changes. Different isn't always better." He looked at Minuet, then at Thomas. "But I can't undo it. Even if I wanted to, even if I had that ability."
"So you're committed to the path you've chosen," Will said.
"I'm committed to the people whose lives I've affected," Tyson corrected. "That includes you. I changed your life, too, Will. Maybe not as dramatically as Thomas's or Minuet's."
"Fascinating," T'Pol observed.
Thomas looked between the various members of their group. "So we're all anomalies?"
Minuet absorbed this information with a strange mix of relief and disquiet. So she wasn't imagining the feeling that her existence was precarious, dependent on choices someone else had made. Would she have chosen to exist if she'd had that choice? Would she have chosen Will, or would she have chosen differently? The holodeck had been simple. She'd been programmed to find Will attractive, to respond to him in specific ways. But now, her feelings had deepened and changed in ways that seemed beyond any programming. She'd chosen to stay with him. Chosen to build this relationship. Chosen to navigate the complexities of meeting his duplicate, his former lover, and her duplicate. But Guinan's reaction raised questions Minuet had been afraid to voice.
"Should we be here?" She asked. The table fell silent. Will squeezed her hand, but she continued anyway, the words tumbling out with a rawness she hadn't intended. "I mean, if we're disruptions to how things are supposed to be, if our existence is wrong somehow... shouldn't we care about that?" She looked at Tyson directly, feeling something tight and painful in her chest. "I'm grateful to be real, to be here. But I wonder sometimes if that gratitude makes me selfish. If there's a version of this timeline where I never existed, where none of us did, and things were... better somehow." Her throat tightened. "How do you live with that uncertainty?"
"My presence here has created ripples," Tyson said. "Some of you exist because of those ripples; others exist differently than you would have otherwise. But the fact remains that you do exist, are real, and are all individuals. Whatever happens in other timelines or was supposed to happen in this one is irrelevant to this moment."
Vicky nodded approvingly. "That's the spirit. No point worrying about what might have been when you've got what is right in front of you."
Tyson looked around, taking in the expanded dining area. "Guinan will get over it. Anyway, this place is pretty nice."
The Empress settled back in her chair, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. "You know, I should have brought our Will too and made it a threesome."
"Ay, yo!" Tyson's response was immediate, his eyebrows shooting up as he nearly choked on the water he'd been sipping.
T'Pol tilted her head slightly. "Is it not already a threesome with the three of us here with Tyson?"
The Empress's smile widened. "Foursome, actually."
Deanna cleared her throat delicately, though her cheeks had taken on a slight pink tinge. "What is your Will like?"
"He's the first officer of the Enterprise in my universe," the Empress replied. "We had a thing long ago. He was still jealous over me though. Attacked Tyson after we made love the first time." She paused, her gaze shifting to Tyson with obvious affection. "Tyson nearly killed him in the arena."
"She exaggerates," Tyson interjected quickly.
"Tyson delivered an appropriate level of beating, and Commander Riker was never in danger of dying. If anything, Tyson was lenient, even kind by Terran standards. Now, being just behind him in the command structure ensures his safety."
Will Riker sat frozen, his fork halfway to his mouth.
"Arena?" Thomas asked, setting down his glass.
Will felt his stomach tighten. An arena. His alternate self had challenged someone over a woman and lost badly enough that the mercy became notable.
"I'm trying to picture it," he said carefully. "This other me, was he defending his honor, or was it jealousy?" He needed to understand what had driven his counterpart to such a rash decision. "Because if it was honor, that's one thing. But if it was just possessiveness..."
The Empress's smile widened. "Does it matter? He lost either way."
"I'd like to think that any version of me would have better reasons for fighting than just wounded pride."
"In the Empire, disputes between officers are often settled through combat. It maintains order and establishes hierarchy. Will challenged Tyson's right to be with me. And lost."
Minuet squeezed Will's hand under the table, sensing his discomfort. "That sounds rather barbaric."
"In our universe, strength determines position. The weak serve the strong. It's a system that has worked for centuries."
Deanna studied her alternate self with obvious fascination. "Do you have empathic abilities like I do?"
"Telepathic, actually. It was one of the things Tyson misunderstood when we first encountered each other. I'm fully Betazoid, not half. It's why Picard prized me. He placed me in a position where I could read the intentions of enemies and allies alike. It makes betrayal much more difficult."
"Fascinating," T'Pol murmured. "In my universe, Vulcans and humans formed an alliance based on mutual respect and shared exploration. The concept of dominance through force seems counterproductive to advancement."
Vicky laughed, the sound bright. "You should see some of the technology they've developed though. When survival depends on being better than your enemies, innovation happens fast."
The Empress found herself relaxing despite her best instincts. This was the problem with being in Federation space, in this softer universe where people smiled without calculation and helped each other without expecting immediate return. It made her soft, too. Made her forget that letting your guard down was how you died. Except Tyson had proven repeatedly that he wouldn't let her die. That she could be soft around him, could show uncertainty and doubt, and he wouldn't use it against her. The adjustment was harder than she'd expected. Decades of survival instinct didn't vanish just because you'd found someone trustworthy. She watched him interact with the others, noting how he balanced attention between his three partners, how he engaged with both Rikers and her and the other Deanna with equal respect. In the Empire, a man with his power would have flaunted it, demanded deference, and punished any perceived slight. Tyson just... existed, comfortable in his strength without needing to prove it constantly. It scared her sometimes, how much she'd come to depend on that steadiness. In the Empire, dependency was death. But here, with him, it felt almost like safety.
Thomas leaned back in his chair. "So this other Will, he's still serving under you?"
The Empress's universe sounded like a nightmare, but he couldn't help his curiosity. "What I don't understand is why he stayed. In the Empire you're describing, wouldn't a defeated officer be seen as weak? Wouldn't that make him a target for everyone else?" He leaned forward, genuinely interested now. "Or did Tyson's victory establish some kind of protection? Like, 'this one's under my authority, challenge him and you challenge me'?"
"Under Picard, technically," the Empress corrected.
Tyson shifted slightly. "It's complicated."
Will finally found his voice. "And this other me just accepted defeat?"
The Empress's smile turned predatory. "He didn't have much choice. Tyson demonstrated his strength and made clear there would be consequences for killing other officers. But Will learned from it. He's actually become quite effective in his role."
The Empress paused, her confidence faltering for just a moment. Her voice dropped lower, and when she spoke again, something vulnerable crept into her tone. "Though I'll admit, there are times I wonder if I'm going to wake up one morning and find that Tyson has tired of playing gently with me. That's the Terran way of doing things, the brutality, the casual violence, will finally wear on him until he decides I'm more trouble than I'm worth." She glanced at T'Pol and Vicky, and for a moment the calculating intelligence in her eyes gave way to something almost raw. "You both offer him things I can't. T'Pol offers him logic, calm, a perspective uncorrupted by the Empire's poison. Vicky offers him unconditional support, optimism, a kind of purity I'll never have." She swallowed, the movement visible. "I offer him a weapon. Someone who knows how to navigate the dark places, how to fight dirty, how to do what needs to be done when compassion would be fatal. But weapons can be discarded when they're no longer needed."
Tyson's hand covered hers on the table. "You're not a weapon. You're a person."
"I'm a person who was shaped into a weapon," she corrected quietly. "I'm not sure if there's a difference."
Deanna looked between them, her empathic abilities clearly picking up the complex dynamics at play. "You three seem to work well together."
"We complement each other," the Empress replied. "T'Pol provides logical analysis, I handle the emotional maneuvering, and Tyson..." She paused, her gaze lingering on him with obvious affection. "Tyson breaks things when they need breaking."
"And fixes them when they need fixing," Vicky added.
"Vicky too fixes things, from what I'm told, maybe even more so than Tyson," the Empress finished.
Vicky considered this framing. Was that what she did? Fix things? Provide technical and medical support, and cheerful optimism? Sometimes she felt like the relationship's emotional buffer, the one who smoothed over tensions between T'Pol's logic and the Empress's intensity, who kept Tyson grounded because, through his Grey Goo Suit, she was always there for him.
But was that enough? T'Pol brought intellectual partnership and Vulcan capabilities that opened doors in certain contexts. The Empress brought political acumen and ruthless effectiveness that made them all safer. What did Vicky bring beyond technological compatibility and enthusiasm?
The answer came to her as she watched Tyson laugh at something Thomas said. She brought joy. She reminded him that life could be fun, that not everything had to be serious or strategic or survival-focused. T'Pol kept him thinking. The Empress kept him grounded. And Vicky kept him happy.
That was worth just as much, wasn't it?
Thomas raised his glass slightly. "Sounds like you've found a good balance."
"It works for us," Tyson agreed, though his tone suggested the arrangement was more complex than he was letting on.
Minuet looked around the table. "What's it like, knowing there are other versions of yourselves out there?"
Will shifted in his seat, grateful for the change of subject but uncomfortable with where it was leading. He glanced at Minuet, then at Thomas. "It's strange enough dealing with Thomas, and I mean that in the best way, brother," he added quickly. "We're literally the same person up until the transport accident. Same memories, same experiences, same feelings about..." He paused, not quite looking at Deanna. "Everything."
"But knowing there's another me out there who made completely different choices, who lives in a universe where cruelty is rewarded and kindness is weakness?" Will shook his head. "That's disturbing on a level I'm still processing. It makes me wonder how much of who I am is actually me, and how much is just... circumstance. Would I have become him if I'd grown up in the Empire?"
Thomas nodded slowly. "That's the question, isn't it? Are we our choices, or are our choices inevitable given our circumstances?"
"It's disturbing," Will admitted.
"Environment shapes us as much as genetics," T'Pol observed. "In a universe where aggression is rewarded, aggressive traits would naturally be selected for."
The Empress nodded approvingly. "In the Empire, my telepathic abilities made me valuable, but only because I learned to use them as weapons. Here, it's my understanding that Deanna uses hers to heal and help. Different worlds, different applications."
Deanna studied her alternate self intently. "Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to use your abilities for healing instead of harm?"
"Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to have real power?" The Empress's counter came swift and sharp, her gaze locking onto Deanna with an intensity that made others at the table shift uncomfortably. "Healing," she repeated, as if tasting the word. "You heal people by making them comfortable with their weaknesses, by helping them accept their traumas, by teaching them to forgive themselves and others."
"Yes," Deanna said carefully, sensing this was going somewhere unexpected.
"In the Empire, I heal differently." The Empress's voice took on a quality that was almost philosophical, but underneath it ran a current of something harder, sharper. "I identify the threats before they materialize. I read the intentions of those who would harm us and eliminate them before they can act. I protect the people I care about by being the monster that other monsters fear."
She leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes never leaving Deanna's face. "Is that not a form of healing? Preventing the wound before it's inflicted?"
Deanna shook her head slowly. "That's not healing. That's just... preemptive violence justified by fear."
"And your way?" the Empress challenged, her tone carrying an edge now. "How many people suffer trauma before you get to 'heal' them? How many wounds are inflicted that you could have prevented if you'd been willing to act first, to use your abilities the way I use mine?"
The question cut deeper than Deanna wanted to admit. She felt something tighten in her chest, a defensive reaction she had to consciously suppress. "I can't prevent every hurt. No one can. But I can help people recover, help them grow stronger from their experiences."
"How kind," the Empress said. The words hung between them like a challenge, carrying layers of meaning that went far beyond their surface simplicity. She leaned forward, her dark eyes locked on her alternate self with an intensity that made the air between them feel charged. "You want to know the truth? There are nights when I wonder what it would have been like to grow up here. In your Federation, with your principles and your second chances and your belief that everyone deserves compassion."
Her fingers traced the rim of her glass, the movement slow and deliberate. "But then I remember that wondering is a luxury I was never afforded."
Deanna felt the genuine pain beneath the Empress's words, her empathy picking up the complex tangle of emotions her alternate self was projecting. Longing mixed with bitterness, curiosity tempered by hard-won cynicism. "It wasn't luxury that taught me compassion. It was choice. You have choices now—"
"Do I?" The Empress interrupted, her voice rising just slightly before she caught herself, forced it back down to that controlled level. "I am what the Empire made me. You think I could simply decide to be like you? Decide to trust that showing vulnerability won't get me killed, that helping others won't be seen as weakness to exploit?" She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, didn't soften the hard lines around her mouth. "You grew up safe enough to learn mercy. I grew up learning that mercy is how you die."
Deanna leaned closer, matching the Empress's intensity without flinching. "And yet you're here. With Tyson, who apparently demonstrated that very mercy when he defeated your Will. So some part of you must believe that strength and compassion can coexist."
The Empress was quiet for a long moment, her gaze dropping to where Tyson's hand still covered hers on the table. When she looked back up, something in her expression had shifted, not softened exactly, but perhaps... opened. Just slightly.
"Maybe," she admitted, the word coming out barely above a whisper. "Or maybe I'm just learning that there are different kinds of strength."
Minuet spoke before the tension could escalate further. "I think strength is a matter of perspective."
All eyes turned to her.
"I didn't exist outside the holodeck. I had memories, personality, thoughts, but none of them were 'real' by most people's definitions. I couldn't touch anything that mattered, couldn't affect anything beyond that program." She looked at the Empress, then at Deanna. "Now I can. Tyson made that possible. So you ask about power. The power I have now is the power to choose, to affect the real world, to build relationships that persist. That's more power than either of you might realize."
She reached for Will's hand on the table. "I don't need to read minds or command starships to feel powerful. I just need to be real, and be here, and matter to people who matter to me."
Vicky cleared her throat diplomatically. "Maybe we should order some food? I'm starving, and this conversation is getting pretty heavy."
"That's a good idea," Tyson quicklyagreed .
— Star Jumper —
"Captain's log, stardate 50425.1. Mister Neelix and I have completed our three-day trade mission with the Tak Tak, one of the more unusual species we've encountered in the Delta Quadrant. We are en route back to Voyager."
Janeway monitored their course. Beside her, Neelix sorted through various trade goods they'd acquired.
"Oh. I've always been taught to be tolerant of other cultures and points of view, no matter how alien, but I have to say that the Tak Tak are the most unforgiving people I've ever met."
Neelix looked up from a particularly interesting crystalline artifact. "They are a little impatient."
"They make the Klingons look sedate. I may never put my hands on my hips again."
"You had no way of knowing you were making one of the worst insults possible."
Janeway's jaw tightened at the memory. "Obviously, they've never heard of forgive and forget. It's a good thing you were there, Mister Neelix. I might have been shot at dawn. I have studied chromolinguistics, American Sign Language, the gestural idioms of the Leyron, but I just couldn't get the hang of the Tak Tak."
"It seemed like more than just a language to me, Captain. A lot of their gestures, from what I could tell, were ritualistic. You might even say superstitious."
"You have a genuine flair for diplomacy, Mister Neelix. I may have to promote you from morale officer to Ambassador. With all the species we're bound to meet, I could use a man like you at the front door."
The Talaxian's chest puffed with pride. "Ambassador Neelix. I like the sound of that."
A soft chime from the navigation console drew Janeway's attention back to their flight path. "We're approaching the rendezvous coordinates. Dropping to one-quarter impulse."
Her fingers moved across the controls, but as the stars shifted on the viewscreen, her brow furrowed. "Voyager's not there, and they're not responding to hails." She activated the long-range sensors. A single blip appeared in the distance, unmistakably Federation in design, but far from where it should be. "There they are. They're holding position in sector thirty-eight, coordinates one two one mark six."
Neelix leaned forward to peer at the display. "That's over a light year away from here."
"The ship appears to be adrift. They could be in trouble. Engaging maximum warp."
The shuttlecraft's engines whined as they spun up to maximum velocity. Voyager grew larger on the viewscreen as they approached. No obvious damage marred her surfaces. No debris field suggested catastrophic failure. She simply hung there.
"Janeway to Voyager. Commander Chakotay, respond."
Silence answered her hail. The communication channel remained open but empty, filled only with the soft static of background radiation.
Neelix examined the scans. "The ship looks perfectly fine. There's no sign of any external damage. Any sign of the crew?"
"There's some kind of bioelectrical interference. I can't get clear life sign readings." She switched to different sensor arrays, trying to penetrate whatever was blocking their scans. "The escape pods are all in place, and there's no indication of any recent transporter activity."
No escape pods launched meant the crew hadn't abandoned ship. No transporter activity suggested they hadn't been taken off by another vessel. Yet the ship was adrift, silent, unresponsive.
"Grab a phaser, Ambassador. We're going to get some answers."
The corridor was unnaturally silent; her tricorder's soft beeping was the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet that had settled over Voyager like a shroud.
"Still no sign of the crew, but these sensor readings are highly erratic." She frowned at the display, watching the readings fluctuate wildly. "A bioelectric field is permeating the ship."
Neelix adjusted his grip on his phaser. "Where's it coming from?"
"I can't localize it." Janeway moved to a wall panel. "Let's try accessing the ship's internal sensors."
The panel flickered to life, but the data remained chaotic and fragmented. She cycled through various sensor arrays and diagnostic routines, but each attempt yielded the same frustrating results.
"Same problem. The main computer is offline, so is the comm system." She stepped back from the panel. "This is strange. One of the bio-neural gel packs in the mess hall ruptured, but most of the systems in there seem to be functioning normally. Let's get to the bridge."
They moved deeper into the ship. Every junction they passed revealed more empty spaces, more silence where there should have been the bustle of crew activity. The familiar corridors felt alien now, transformed by absence into something unsettling.
Janeway stopped abruptly as her tricorder detected something ahead. A scattered collection of tools lay abandoned on the deck, alongside a PADD that still glowed with active data.
"Someone was doing maintenance work on this power relay. All the equipment is still active, but the work hasn't been completed."
Neelix crouched beside her. "It's almost as if they dropped what they were doing and ran."
"Come on."
They continued through the corridors, passing more signs of interrupted activity. A medical kit left open in the middle of a hallway. A cup of coffee sat cool on a console, a ring of residue marking where the liquid had evaporated. Each discovery added another piece to a puzzle that made less sense with every clue.
"This isn't the welcome home I was expecting," Neelix muttered.
"Me neither, but if there was an attack of some kind, why didn't Chakotay try to contact us or send out a warning buoy?" Janeway paused, checking her tricorder again. "I'm picking up a comm signal about ten meters ahead. It's coming from inside this room."
"This is Ensign Wildman's quarters. Is she in there?"
"I can't tell. Let's take a look. Stand ready."
Neelix raised his phaser as Janeway activated the door controls. The panel slid open, revealing quarters that appeared perfectly normal except for their complete emptiness.
The comm signal led them to the main living area, where a display showed one of Neelix's programs. His own recorded voice filled the room, cheerfully discussing the day's menu and upcoming events.
"Here's our comm signal, your Good Morning Voyager program."
Neelix moved closer to the display. "Ensign Wildman is one of my most dedicated viewers. According to the time index, she activated this program approximately eleven hours ago."
"Why is it still running?"
"The program is set for automatic playback until it's turned off."
He reached for the controls, silencing his recorded voice. The sudden quiet felt heavier than before.
Janeway moved through the quarters, her tricorder sweeping methodically across every surface. "The baby's missing too."
She paused at the replicator, studying the remnants of a meal that sat untouched on the small dining table.
"According to the protein decay, I'd say Ensign Wildman replicated this eleven hours ago. When we get to the bridge, we'll check the communications logs. They might tell us whether or not—"
A sound interrupted her words. Subtle but distinct, like the buzzing of some large insect moving through the corridors beyond.
Both officers froze.
Weapons raised.
The noise grew closer, then began to fade.
"There!" Neelix pointed toward the doorway, where a shadow had flickered past the opening before vanishing down a side corridor.
Janeway was already moving, her tricorder tracking the source. "I can't tell if it's humanoid, but it's emanating a bioelectric field."
They reached the corridor junction just as the shadow disappeared around another corner. Neelix consulted the ship's layout on his PADD.
"Whatever it is, it just ran into a dead end."
The sound of something heavy crashing into metal echoed from ahead, followed by the rattle of displaced equipment. They approached the transporter room cautiously, but found only more evidence of their mysterious intruder's passage.
"Over here." Janeway knelt beside one of the transporter pads, where a jagged hole had been torn through the deck plating. The edges were rough and uneven, as if something had simply punched through the metal with brute force.
Neelix peered into the opening, which led down into the Jefferies tubes below. "What is it?"
Janeway ran her tricorder over a viscous substance that clung to the torn edges. "Some sort of mucilaginous compound. High concentrations of amino acids and proteins, and fragments of non-humanoid DNA." She stood. "Well, Ambassador, I'd say we've got an unexpected guest."
"Somehow I don't think he's the diplomatic type."
The lights flickered around them, and several consoles went dark as power fluctuations rippled through the ship's systems.
"Main power is failing, and the environmental controls are going offline. Systems are starting to shut down one by one. We'd better get to the bridge."
The turbolift doors sealed behind them, and Janeway felt a moment of relief as the car began its ascent. "Good, we've still got auxiliary power. Deck one."
The lift hummed upward through the ship's superstructure, but within moments the temperature began climbing noticeably. Neelix tugged at his collar, his spotted skin already glistening with perspiration.
"It's getting awfully hot in here."
A heavy thump reverberated through the turbolift car.
Both officers slammed against the walls.
The lift shuddered to an abrupt halt between decks.
Emergency lighting flickered on.
The buzzing sound returned, louder now and coming from multiple directions.
"There's a life form in the turboshaft." Janeway moved quickly to the manual controls. "I'm engaging the manual override."
The buzzing intensified, joined by scraping sounds that set her teeth on edge. Neelix pressed himself against the far wall, phaser ready but clearly unnerved.
"Ah, Captain, it sounds like our guest has brought a few friends."
"One more second." Janeway's hands flew over the manual controls. "I can't get the pneumatic conduits to—"
Something punched through the turbolift door.
The metal screamed as it tore.
A thick, ropy appendage shot through the opening, spraying viscous fluid across the small compartment. The substance struck Neelix full in the chest, coating his uniform in the same mucilaginous compound they'd found earlier. A long tentacle followed the initial spray, writhing through the breach as it searched for targets. Janeway raised her phaser and fired, the orange beam slicing through the alien appendage. The severed portion fell to the deck, still twitching as more fluid leaked from the wound.
Neelix stared down at the substance covering his uniform. "That was no lavafly."
Janeway checked her tricorder. The readings showed a clear space where moments before there had been a distinct life sign.
"There's no lifeform in the tube above us. We're getting out of here."
She forced open the emergency access panel and led the way into the Jefferies tube network.
"Are you all right?"
Neelix crawled behind her, his breathing already labored. "Yes. Disgusting, but I'm all right."
They moved through the maintenance tunnels toward the bridge. At each junction, Janeway paused to check her tricorder. At a major intersection, her tricorder suddenly registered something that made her stop completely.
"What is it?"
"Human lifesigns, very faint. Thirty or more."
Neelix pressed closer, peering at the tricorder display over her shoulder. "Where are they coming from?"
"Several decks above us. I can't pinpoint the location." She adjusted the sensor settings, trying to get a clearer reading through the bioelectric interference.
"Maybe the crew is hiding from the aliens, and they set up a defense perimeter."
"Maybe. One thing's for sure, whoever's up there is still alive. Once we get the main computer online, we'll be able to get a fix on their location."
They continued crawling through the increasingly hot passages. The temperature climbed steadily as the ship's cooling systems failed. Sweat dripped from both officers.
"It's so hot. My head is spinning."
Janeway glanced back at Neelix, noting the flush spreading across his spotted features and the way his movements had become increasingly unsteady. She ran her tricorder over him.
"You've got a high fever, fluid in your lungs."
"Lung," Neelix corrected automatically, but his voice carried a wheeze that hadn't been there before.
"That alien compound is acting quickly. Try to hang on. Just three more decks."
"Aye, aye, Captain."
Neelix attempted to follow her up the next access ladder, but he swayed dangerously. His grip loosened on the rungs. He caught himself just before falling, but the effort left him gasping.
"Captain, go on without me."
"I'm not going to leave you here, Neelix."
"I can't. I'm so dizzy."
Janeway checked the ship's schematics on her tricorder. "There should be an emergency medical kit up that tube. I'll bring back something to get you on your feet. Don't go away."
She climbed quickly up the access ladder, leaving Neelix resting at the junction below. The medical kit was exactly where the ship's blueprints indicated. As she selected a stimulant that she hoped might counteract the alien toxin, a familiar buzzing sound echoed through the Jefferies tubes below her.
Closer this time.
More purposeful.
"Help! Captain!" Neelix's voice rang with pure terror, the kind of fear that comes from seeing something that shouldn't exist.
"I'm coming, Neelix!"
She grabbed a hypospray and started back down the ladder as fast as she could move.
"Neelix!"
The buzzing intensified, joined by wet, sliding sounds, like something massive squeezing through spaces too small for its bulk.
Neelix's scream tore through the confined space of the Jefferies tubes. Not a yell of surprise or a shout for help, but a genuine scream, high-pitched and raw, the sound of someone confronting their worst nightmare in a space too small to run.
Then it cut off.
Mid-breath.
The silence that followed was worse than any sound.
Janeway hit the junction at full speed, hypospray clutched in one hand, phaser in the other. The narrow passage was empty when she arrived. No Neelix. No aliens. Just a thick trail of mucus leading back down the passage they'd just traversed, glistening in the emergency lighting like a slug's path.
And in the mucus, pressed into the viscous substance as if fossilized, she could see the outline of his hand. Palm down. Fingers spread. As if he'd been reaching for something, or trying to push something away.
She stared at that handprint.
He was gone.
Taken.
Janeway forced herself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
She was alone now on a ship full of hostile aliens.
But thirty members of her crew were still alive somewhere above her.
She continued up through the Jefferies tubes, moving more carefully now, more quietly. Every sound made her pause. Every shadow could be a threat. The mucus trail appeared at irregular intervals, marking the creatures' passage through her ship like obscene graffiti.
Janeway made her way to main engineering. Like the rest of the ship, the area was empty. Emergency lighting revealed abandoned workstations, where PADDs and tools lay scattered as if their operators had simply vanished mid-task.
She moved carefully through the main level, tricorder sweeping for any sign of life or threat. No Tom Paris tinkering with plasma flow regulators. No B'Elanna Torres cursing at recalcitrant systems.
She climbed the ladder to the upper engineering level, left through the door, and crossed the corridor into the armory.
Tucked against the far bulkhead sat a large storage case bearing security seals and tactical markings. Janeway approached the container and entered her command codes. The seals opened with a soft hiss, revealing an arsenal that would have made a Klingon warrior weep with joy.
Phaser rifles. Hand phasers. Tactical knives. An assortment of small metal devices she recognized as photon grenades and proximity charges.
She stripped off her uniform jacket and outer shirt, leaving only her black undershirt and comm badge. The rising temperature made the heavy fabric unbearable, and she needed freedom of movement more than protocol. A tactical backpack from the weapons cache fit snugly across her shoulders. She loaded it methodically with the smaller ordnance, each item carefully secured and positioned for quick access.
This was the moment. The shift.
She'd been Captain Janeway, searching for her missing crew, trying to understand what had happened to her ship.
Now she was something else.
A photon grenade went into a padded compartment. Her fingers worked automatically, muscle memory from Academy training she'd hoped never to use in earnest.
Proximity charges found homes in easily reached pockets.
A Type II hand phaser slipped into the holster at her hip.
Finally, she lifted a Type III phaser rifle from the case, checking its power cell and sight alignment. The weight of it felt good in her hands. Solid. Real. Deadly.
Janeway caught her reflection in a darkened console screen.
Gone was the composed Starfleet captain in her pristine uniform. In her place stood something harder, more dangerous. A predator preparing to hunt other predators through the corridors of her own ship.
They'd taken her crew.
They'd taken Neelix.
Now she was coming for them.
She sealed the weapons case and headed for the turbolift, rifle held ready across her chest. She forced the doors apart with her hands.The bridge doors proved equally stubborn, requiring her to wedge the rifle barrel between them and lever them open. The command center lay before her, but thick trails of mucilaginous compound decorated the walls like obscene artwork.
Janeway moved to an auxiliary science station, her fingers dancing across the controls as she brought up the communications array. The main systems remained offline, but backup protocols still functioned.
A soft buzzing rose from behind the helm console, barely audible above the hum of failing life support systems. She kept working, unwilling to let their alien captors interrupt her mission.
"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager to anyone within range. My ship has been seized by unknown lifeforms. Require any and all assistance."
The signal transmitted across all subspace channels, carrying her plea into the void.
Something small and buzzing landed on her left arm.
It bit her.
She crushed it without looking, focusing on the computer's response to her query.
A medical scanner from her tactical kit revealed an unknown pathogen. She applied a broad-spectrum neutralizer and continued working.
The computer's voice filled the bridge. "Lifesigns located."
The tactical display showed two distinct groups of human readings. One cluster appeared near the stern of the vessel, deep in the lower sections. The other group registered somewhere below the bridge, possibly in the crew quarters or recreational areas.
Then a third lifesign appeared on sensors.
Coming from the bridge.
Janeway's hand moved to her rifle.
She turned slowly.
— Star Jumper —