[STV: J/P Fic] Modulation IX-X
Modulation
Sydney Alexis
"Let be be finale of seem."
Stevens, The Emperor of Ice Cream
IX [Nine]
He walked through the winding, darkened streets of the capital making sure that he wasn't followed. The information that he'd gathered that afternoon and downloaded into the tiny PADD that he was carrying was damning, and the actions that he was about to take would count as treason if Kairon's men caught up to him before he delivered the information to Gepek.
The weather was violent that night. The winds were gusting at gale force. Wrapping his coat around his large frame, he continued down the sidewalk, careful to melt into the shadows provided by the streetlights. In the distance, the Industrial Order's main complex loomed. He could only vaugely recall what the building looked like. He knew he had been created here, programmed here, but the only time that he had been permitted to see the exterior was when he was being delivered to The Yard. There, he had served for the last seven years, never leaving the grounds he'd been created to work on, never questioning any orders he'd been given... until the Voyager Project was started.
"G'tan Tumeric?"
"What's it to you?" He asked turning towards the sound of the gruff voice.
"I understand that you have some information for me," the man said, stepping from the darkened doorway of the complex's security gate.
"Gepek?"
"No..." the voice said, softly. The sentence was never completed. A single shot echoed through the narrow alley despite the silencer that had been attached to the barrel.
"Your timing is impeccable, Kenoshia," G'tan said, chuckling. "A moment later and I would have been food for the ovens."
The two of them drug the man's body into the light cast from the street lamp.
"Well...well... would you look at this? Kairon sent his lap dog to play fetch," Kenoshia said, emptying the dead man's pockets. To the local authorities, it would look like a simple robbery gone wrong. To Kairon, the DNA traces left would be enough to identify who had done the deed and send a clear message-- Tumeric wasn't the simpleton that his creators had thought that he was.
A siren blared in the distance. "The authorities are coming. Time to get to the complex, sir."
"In a moment, Kenoshia, I want to capture this moment."
The elder man stood, gazing down at the body. It was a valiant moment for him knowing that he had killed a man- a superior- without being told to do so, and knowing that he would not be cancelled for his transgression filled him with a euphoria he had never experienced before.
"But, sir..." Kenoshia protested. They were standing in direct line of sight from several of the surrounding buildings. Anyone with a window facing this street could clearly make out their faces in the street lamps. Murder was still a punishable offense in the private sector. The Industrial Order would deny all knowledge of their status as members. It had happened before. They'd both been called in from time to time to deal with the accused.
Giving a sidelong gaze to his commanding officer, Kenoshia sighed. They would not be leaving immediately. He took a single step backward and blended into the shadows, scanning the rooflines for any snipers the Industrial Order may have dispatched.
"You and I were once no one. Both easily replaceable. Not much better than the man that served under us. We were just given slightly more training. Something like this... what Kairon did and is doing... it would be enough for us to be cancelled," he said, rising to his feet, meeting Kenoshia's gaze evenly. "Don't you see? We killed a superior, and no one will ever know. We have power over all of them, and I think that it's time for a change.
§Ø§
Tom sat with the small child in his arms so long he had lost all sense of
time. Never in his life had he been at such a loss of what to do. Watching her
tiny chest rise and fall, her eyes move rapidly in REM sleep just beneath the
delicate eyelids, he felt a lump rise in his throat. A child...his child...lay
in his arms, and the experience was horribly tainted.
In the distance, the nursery door opened, hesitant footsteps approached the
far end of the room where he sat. Even without looking up Tom knew who it was-
the same person that sought out lost souls on Voyager.
"Is there anything I can get you, Tom?" The voice said so softly.
"No, Neelix. I'm..." he said, looking down at the child in his
arms, "we're both okay," he amended.
"Why don't I believe that?"
Tom's eyebrow shot up at the comment, but he didn't say anything. He
acknowledged that everyone had changed since they had first arrived. Neelix was
no exception. The Talaxian had fallen into a familiar pattern- do what is
necessary to survive. At least he made the attempt to keep friendships alive.
"I wish Kes was here. She'd know what to do...say in this
situation."
"Not to mention blow a hole right through the complex," Tom said,
chuckling. Neelix joined him.
"She would probably say that I was being selfish. That I should
consider Hope before myself because she's a totally helpless innocent in all of
this."
"And she would be right."
"But good intentions aren't enough to raise a child. Believe me; I
know," Tom said, rising from the rocking chair and returning the child to
her crib, amazed that she didn't start crying. He returned to his seat, leaned
forward, and raked his hands through his hair.
Anger, boarding on rage, and sadness marred Tom's features as he paused long
enough to reign in the emotions coloring his voice. "I grew up in a household where my parents would fight constantly-
mostly about me. That was when they
were actually home. Most of the time it was just my sisters and I and the
housekeeper.
"I'd go over to friend's houses and see how in love their parents were.
How proud they were of the awards that they'd won, and I would be so jealous. I wasn't
stupid; I knew my parents only stayed together for appearance's sake. That the expected me to make top marks, win all the awards, graduate from Starfleet..." Tom started, burying his face in his hands as tears began to well in his eyes. This was yet another thing he had picked up from his father-- grown men don't cry. They don't reveal any emotion. Emotions are weaknesses that can be used to your enemy's advantage.
"And be exactly like your father-- straight up the ranks, not stopping until you were an admiral." Neelix finished.
"The whole
time that I was in that house I promised myself my children wouldn't be raised
in a household like that. "
"And you're afraid that you and the Captain would have that sort of
relationship?"
Tom paused to smile at Neelix. It was so rare to hear anyone say 'the
Captain' anymore. It was even rarer to be in contact with anyone from his old
life. To him, Voyager was a distant memory. Experience had taught him to live
in the now, not in the past.
"No, Neelix, I know we would. I'm not stupid. I know that she's
convinced herself that she loves me."
Tom turned his head towards the Talaxian at his side. "You want to know
how I presume to know her mind better than her, right? Simple really. When you
spend the better half of your life being thrown in and out of jail, you learn
to read people pretty well; it keeps you alive. Another trick I learned from a
lifer is to create illusions in your mind, fill it with things that make you
happy. Makes the time pass more quickly."
"And you think that she's used that to convince herself that she loves
you?" Tom nodded slowly.
"Let's say that this was
created by some fantasy. So what? It's only a question of time before we all
go. You might as well make sure that you both enjoy the time you have
left."
Tom opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Neelix. "You are not
your father, Tom. There is no doubt in my mind that, if you accept Hope, she
will never want for love. You might not give her the perfect life here, but at
least there can be some happiness."
"What about Kathryn? She's not going to take this well."
Neelix cleared his throat, wondering how to broach the next gap.
"She'll handle it in her own way, but you have to keep all of the other
attachments free."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have this image in your mind of the perfect family. Maybe you do
need to think of what is best for Hope. You and the Captain are close
friends..."
"And for her sake we should just keep it at that?"
"You said it yourself-- the Captain is only in love with you because of
this illusion. Kairon is right, this would cement it or shatter it. I know you
feel something for this child, but is it as strong if not stronger than what
you feel for her? Because, if you really love both of them as much as you say
you do..."
"Than I have to be willing to love Kathryn enough to just be her friend
if that's what she wants," Tom said, his chest tightening at the thought.
"Tell her about Hope with no strings and no pressure attached. The
sooner the better."
"And if I don't get the ending that I want...I'll just follow an old
lifer's advice."
§Ø§
"Aren't you tired yet, Tanari? We've been at this nearly sixteen hours straight."
The short, slender man turned toward the hologram and offered a weak smile. "I am use to lengthy hours. If I don't keep the time table that my superiors want, I will be killed. Then who would help you?"
"Still...some rest might help. A few hours will clear up your mind. I can keep working."
Tanari shook his head. "You know, I do envy you; you never grow tired. You will never die. The freedoms that you had and have now are those that I have never known."
"How so?"
"I've only been permitted to go outside the building when I was running errands. The last time that I saw the suns... felt them on my skin was six winters ago. I spend most of my time going from one lab to the next, working on one problem and then another."
The Doctor paused and put his scanner down. "When did all of this start? The Farm, The Yard?"
"I am not to speak of such things. No outsiders may know."
"Tanari, in all likelihood I will spend the rest of my days in this lab just as you have. I would like to know...to understand why."
The Kamien nodded and sat on one of the stools near the Doctor's table. By the time his tale was over, the Doctor had wished he had never asked.
§Ø§
It was nearly dawn by the time that Tom left the nursery. He had gained Kairon's permission to take the following day off as the Doctor had explained to him that 'being overly distracted by distressing news lowers productivity rate and raises the likelihood of injury' and that the Doctor had 'spent enough valuable time tending to his wounds.'
His head was down as he rounded yet another corner. For the better part of an hour, he had paced the corridors, delaying his return home. Telling himself he was merely taking time to think things over, he had made the rounds of the living quarters several times, passing by his own and continuing on. It was on one of those trips that he bumped into someone. Muttering an excuse, he started on his path again. He'd only gotten a few feet when a distinct voice called his name.
Disbelieving eyes met. "But you're dead. You both are. We saw them bury you alive."
"Heard the same rumor about you too. Guess it didn't stick," Harry said, laughing. Tom took in the differences in both his friend and the woman beside him. They were both thinner than the last time he had seen them, and their eyes had deep black marks beneath them belying a lack of sleep.
"God, it's good to see you, Tom," B'Elanna said, stepping toward him, trapping him in a tight hug. Tentatively returning it, he felt his chest tighten. Before this place, they had been dating. Now she was a reminder of a life he had all but left behind. In the course of his year on Kamien, he had fallen in love with someone else... someone with whom he now had a child. A family that he was duty bound to protect. How many more surprises was the day going to hold?
"Who else?" He managed. His voice sounded strained to his own ears.
"Tuvok, Neelix, Chakotay, Seven, and a handful of others. Mostly science officers. What about the Captain?" Harry's voice at the last was colored with a little too much hope and emphasis. A sick feeling entered Tom as he forced himself to answer.
"Kathryn's alive. Barely. Nearly lost her a few weeks back when the sewing factory burned down," Tom answered, trying to hide the emotion in his voice and failing. Both of his friends picked up on the hitch in his tone as he recalled the events and the fact that he had used her first name. Swallowing hard, he ventured, "She's not the person you knew. I don't think that anyone is."
"Do you think she'd still be able to act as Captain?" Harry asked. Tom's eyes flew from inspecting his hands to lock on him. His stomach lurched. Oh god. Oh god no. His mind kept repeating the same phrase over hand over.
"She's still Kathryn. Just a little different. Can't say any of us are the same." He explained. The two nodded.
"B'El and I've come up with an escape plan. We've already set it in motion. Just need you to tell her to be ready when the time comes."
The walls were suddenly moving in on him. He was having trouble breathing, concentrating as he felt his life totally and utterly slipping out of control. It was happening too fast. Realizing that they were waiting for an acknowledgement, he nodded slowly wondering if he had kept the look of disbelief off of his face.
B'Elanna looked nervously around them. "We had better be going or we'll be late. We'll find a way to get word to you." After murmuring a quick goodbye, the pair took off in the opposite direction of they came, and Tom continued down the hall to his quarters.
When he arrived home, he found that Kathryn was still asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he silently padded across the living room straight to the sofa. He sank down onto the inviting cushions, untied the laces of his boots, kicked them off beside the coffee table, and pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa to cover himself.
He'd intended on telling her about Hope tonight, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Circumstances had changed drastically. B'Elanna and Harry's newest escape attempt would either get all of them killed, get Hope killed as 'punishment,' or would be successful which would mean loosing Kathryn permanently.
Though he felt bone tired, he couldn't find sleep easily. Torn between telling her about Hope and about possible freedom, he took the night to digest the news before telling her. At least this way one of them would have a decent night's sleep.
§Ø§
Kairon stood behind the wall of monitors in his office. He'd been staring at the main view for so long that his eyes had unfocused. The muted newscast was filled with a special broadcast about the murder victim found just blocks from the Industrial Order's Complex. Without seeing the body, he knew that it was his favored assistant. Although protocol dictated he put in the order for Talken's replacement as well as a sweeper team, he was having trouble making the call. Ten years they had worked together, and, in all that time, Talken had never failed him. He had even gone so far as to worry about his master's health.
Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair. It was a mannerism that he had picked up from watching Alpha Voyager 04--one that his assistant had pointed out on several occasions.
The door to his office slid open, revealing a weary looking Tanari.
"You asked for me, sir?"
He was shaking, and rightly so. Word had spread around the compound that Kairon had locked himself away in his office that morning, refusing all calls. When he was brooding as he was now, he was a dangerous man to be around.
"Talken's clone is in the cryo chamber still?"
"Yes, sir. It just needs a few uploads of data before it is sent to you. It should only take a week or so," the worker said, pausing. "Does this mean that he is no more?"
Kairon motioned from Tanari to come in. Walking with great trepidation, he approached and slid into the seat across from his master.
"It was an intentional move, Talken. Tumeric killed him and is probably planning on releasing information about the compound to the general public."
"But if the private sector finds out how the government has been supplying their needs..."
"They'll be public outrage. The government will be overthrown...blah blah blah....I've seen the scenarios. I even wrote some of the damned things. So much irony in the situation, isn't there, Tanari? They know that we have few resources left and yet they never question where we acquire them. We were created to serve them. To keep them all comfortable without letting them know how. We've done this for years..."
"And if any information was leaked to the public, Project Farm will be cancelled. All documents destroyed. As well as all prototypes."
Kairon nodded, returning his glare to the TV screen behind him. His hand went to the console in front of him where he entered the orders to send out the sweeper team. They would discard of the body and erase all evidence linking him to the Industrial Order as well as take out the two rouge clones.
"Suppose this means that you'll want to step up the Voyager project."
"You have four weeks. No more. Use them wisely."
§Ø§
"Are you sure this is going to work?" B'Elanna asked, looking over the PADD the Doctor had provided her. He nodded gravely at her.
"They all contain a small amount of Kamien DNA. It was necessary for them to use donor eggs in the beginning to create human life. By creating hybrids, they were able to ensure that their replicas were capable of surviving the tougher climate here."
Nodding her understanding, B'Elanna sighed. "I'm going to start embedding the coding into the program tonight. It should only take me a day or so per alogrhythm to hide this. Harry'll back me up laying false trails. I'll need you to cover the camera; put them on a loop like I showed you."
"And what makes you think that they won't notice?"
"Guards are all jumpy. I've heard that they're worried about what Kairon might do now that his favorite muscle got himself killed."
She paused, hiding the PADD in her boot before turning her gaze on the Doctor again.
"Remember to tell Tom about the timetable," B'Elanna started, then off the Doctor's sunken expression added. "What's with him? He seems...off. Least he did when Harry and I ran into him last night."
"Seems that this place has left him with his own demons to deal with."
"You told him about The Replicas, didn't you?"
"In a way, yes."
"Don't tell me he got attached to his other self." B'Elanna said, laughing at her own joke, but stopped abruptly at the Doctor's serious expression.
"There is more going on than you know about, Lieutenant. Tom and Captain Janeway stand to loose the most in this arrangement, and I'm not totally sure they'll survive your little scheme."
B'Elanna opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when the Doctor raised his hand. "It's not my place to tell you. I will relay the message."
X [Ten]
"All were endangered;
young and old were hunted down
by the dark death shadow who lurked
and swooped in the long nights of the misty moors."
Beowulf 83-85
He ran. His chest burning from the sudden overuse of his lungs. The object he carried in his sweat soaked palm was the true cause of his death march. A tiny data PADD that fit perfectly into his right hand contained all of the information that his master had died to collect. Heavy footfalls echoed through the streets as the Kamien soldiers closed in on him. With his final destination in sight, he picked up his pace. Legs burning from the sudden burst, he slipped the data entry device into rose bush beside private residence's front door before running out into the street.
In the distance, he could make out the silhouette of scent hounds yapping their way toward him. He knew without a doubt that where they apprehended him was where they would start their search for the PADD; it was what he had been trained to do. With a silent muttering of pain, he lunched himself over a nearby fence and bolted for the forest just beyond the sleepy neighborhood. There, he could wade through the river that wound through it, washing his scent away, before racing toward the mountains.
No sooner had he reached the edge of the woods than he heard the nearby shouts of soldiers and dogs. They were closing in quickly. His left hand came up to the wound on his left side. It bled heavily through his thick overcoat. His time was coming soon just as it should be. His work was finished, and it was better to die quickly and quietly than in a Kamien interrogation facility. Shedding his blood soaked coat and shirt, he ventured out of the woods, through the protective shield, and into the bitter cold of the mountain's base. The once distant yells of the soldiers grew closer, but he didn't care. His work was done.
The cold ate through his skin, cooling it at incredible speeds. The snowflakes he'd watched from a safe distance now fell on his bare shoulders, and he watched with awe as they suddenly stopped melting.
A dog howled in warning as the pack picked up his scent. More yelling from men this time. He closed his eyes, feeling his very blood turn to ice.
"Kenoshia, come through the barrier. Sitting in the cold like that will only lead you to your death."
The ampule clicked between his molars. Designed to remove all memory engrams from his mind, it was standard issue to higher ranking officials within the Kamien government in case they were captured by the enemy. It was a gift that had been given to Tumeric by the source they had leaked the original information to. End of days was coming, and he was glad he wouldn't be there to see it.
§ Ø §
Mortimer Harrin, sat on the narrow stool to which he had been assigned, cursing violently at the machine in front of him. If there was one thing he hated more than manual labor it was being forced to do it on archaic technology. His placement in the newly rebuilt sewing factory had been his own fault; he'd questioned a Kamien superior officier about his poor choice of conduit wiring in the electricity grid. Of course he'd received a sound thrashing and been forced into the most minial and repetitive jobs there was.
The gentle murmuring of the machines around him and the hypnotic pacing of the guards was enough to lull him into sleep. His hand slipped yet again, and, for what seemed the four hundred time that day, the needle became unthreaded. Of course, the thread itself had to become tangled. He lifted the needle, pulled the fabric only to find stuck in the tiny hole for the bobbin's feeder. Rather than carefully extracting it like he had the first dozen or so times it had happened, he cut it out, rethread the needle, and continued. At least, if they killed him for doing such a horrible job, he would be free of this machine and this place.
Mistake number 473 occurred not because of mechanical problems or lack of know how. It was caused by a guard losing his step and falling within the direction of his machine, ripping the powercord from the back. He flew back off of his stool and rised his hands in the air.
"I didn't do that. You saw that I didn't do that, right?" His eyes dashing from guard to guard.
"Don't just stand there, you idiot, see what's wrong,"one of the guards yelled. Chell stepped forward, pulling the guard from Harrin's work station and setting him none to gently on the ground. He was sweat soaked and delirious, mumbling non-coherent phrases about the End of Days. Deep crimson blood tricked from his nose, and his body was trembling uncontrolably.
"I think he's dehydrated maybe. Do you have any water for him to drink?" Chell ventured. A murmur broke out through the crowd. One prisoner took the initiative to race to the well near the center of camp and draw a bucket full of water. The mumbling only stopped as the ladel full of water was raised to the guard's parched lips.
A blue beam surrounded the guard and he disappeared instintaneously leaving Chell crouched beside a vast, empty space. The guard that had spoken to them stepped back, clearly showing some of the same symptoms his comrade had. His eyes darted around at the workers that had left their stations to see what was happening. Then, he cast a weary gaze at the only other guard on duty. An unspoken agreement passed between them before he bellowed more orders.
"Line up; we're bringing you back to your cells for lunch today."
Harrin's elbow dug into Chell's side as they marched. "Great going, Florence Nightengale. What were you expecting? A medal?"
"Harrin, if you weren't so busy trying to make everyone miserable by extolling your theories then maybe just maybe you would have noticed the look in those guard's faces."
"Yeah. They were terrified that we were going to rebel and take them out," he gruffed, dragging his chains behind him."
"You really do suck at human interaction, don't you?" Ayela called out from behind them. "What Chell meant was that the guard that went down had the same kind of 'attack' that all the other guards have had before they were mysteriously beamed away too."
"And a lot of those same symptoms..."
"Are being displayed by these guards. I got that. So what? All the Kamiens are getting some nasty bug?"
"Which means that sooner or later we could just walk right on out of here without a fight."
"You think they're just going to lower their little shield and let us all skip merrily into the sunset? You two are completely crazy."
"Every morning at exactly 6:15 the shield goes down for ten minutes to allow the workers needed to deliever bodies to the creamatorium leave."
"So, if we timed it right, we'd all be able to walk out."
"Right into the new batch of guards walking in." Harrin volleyed, rolling his eyes at the two conspiritors.
"There's only a finite amount of guards that any group of people can have. If all of them got sick or died from whatever this is..." Chell started.
"Then they'd call out their reserve troops to kill us all before we could escape."
"You're also one of the most negative people I've ever come across. Get over it, Harrin. It'll work." Ayela interjected.
"And if it doesn't everyone on your cell blocks will be dead which is...oh say...everybody left from Voyager."
§ Ø §
The clones stood in eleven lines waiting patiently for their latest injection. This one would take them from age 8 to 12 in a few hours. The following day, they would be given the shot that would level them out to the appropriate age. Young Kathryn came first. She stepped up to Tom with a board smile across her face. The type that reached her eyes. The kind that he hadn't seen from the original Kathryn since he had begun keeping long hours to see Hope.
"Good Morning, Lieutenant Paris."
He winked at her, "Morning, Captain," he teased, pressing the hypospray to her neck.
"You're still taking me out on the shuttle tomorrow, aren't you?" Her voice was filled with youth, overly eager enthusiasum, and an inquizative mind he recalled the original Kathryn having not some long ago. The being in front of him was like a living thing. Bright, shiny, untainted, but, more than anything else, happy and his heart broke for her and the women she would become.
"Of course I am. Don't I always keep my promises?"
§ Ø §
B'Elanna stood at her post on the bridge of Voyager outfitting the con position to include the controls for the new propulsion systems. A lone guard loomed above her. She turned a wary eye on him, watching him sway slightly yet again. A clumbsy hand rose to his brow, wiping the sweat it encountered. Normally, she would have had her own troupe watching over her, but a number of guards had fallen mysteriously ill. All of the displaying remarkably similar symptoms. A cruel smile twisted at her lips, forcing her to lower her head slightly.
"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't look well," she said, standing, voice colored with humor. "In fact, you look even paler than normal."
The hand that held his gun at his side rose in the air slowly as he struggled to target her. The strike held little strength and they both knew it. His mouth opened to speak but the words came out in a stuttering mess.
She tilted her head to the side, making a mental note to tell the doctor that the infection's incubation time was excellerating with each generation it was infecting.
With dispassionate interest, she watched him sink to his knees. The color drained from his face, his lips grew blue tinged, and he his hands began to twitch as he lost motor control. Within seconds a transport beam enveloped the guard and he was replaced with another. One that was still in the early stages.
"Get back to work," he growled. She did as was ordered trying carefully to conceal the smile on her face.
§ Ø §
The Doctor sat in his lab, staring down at the latest scans he'd run of the Kamien soldiers at The Farm. The compound that he had created was working perfectly according to the chart. Facts and figures and illness all neatly diagramed. Life and death projections like those found in a history text he'd had entered into his matrix. Funny how it felt different when you knew what each of their faces looked like.
"Maybe they'll name the serum after me," he mused to himself, flipping the PADD off and throwing it onto the steel counter that his feet were currently propped up on. Empty hands came to rest on his bald head. Fingers threaded through one another as a content smile spread across his face.
Four months ago, B'Elanna had come to him looking for a fast, easy way to disable the guards. She and Harry were working on outfitting Voyager with the Kamien-based propulsion system. The access they were given allowed them to work on an escape route-- one that was more complex than digging to freedom but also had a much higher success rate.The Doctor agreed to come up with a means if she came up with the method. The engineer was quick to point out the drug could easily be slipped into the weekly injections that the enhanced Kamiens received to keep their systems from rejecting the added sequencing. When he'd delievered the formula for her to enter into the computer system's data core, he'd failed to mention the unfortunate side effect of his invention.
It was a miracle design really. A virus that attacks only Kamien DNA in the very medium used to replicate it-- the mitochondria. The shot would convince the cell to create nucleic acids that were tainted with mutant strands of DNA. These strands were unable to be paired with existing RNA or be broken down into ATP, the sugar that provides the energy for cell division. In other words, their cells would run out of the body's form of gasoline. Without gasoline, the cell's 'engine' would burn and the car, or, in this case, the Kamien soldier, would die. The more of their own people's DNA in their system, the quicker the infection would spread.
As soon as he had seen the evidence that his creation was working, he had begun writing an article for the United Federation of Planet's Medical Jounral. He was sure his entry would gain him attention when they returned home. It wasn't every day that a hologram single-handedly rescued an entire crew from certain death.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Ensign?" He asked, swerving around in his chair.
"I've come to check your holomatrix," he said, looking from the doctor to the camera in the corner and back.
"Working at peak effeciency," he said, picking up the PADD he was holding earlier and handed it to the young man. "And you?"
Harry looked over the message written below the graph. 'Serum working faster than anticipated. Scheduled extration needs to be moved up at least two days.' It read. Harry typed in a response and handed the PADD back to the doctor.
"Doing just fine, Doc. Might even be able to clear enough spare time to help Tom."
The doctor casually looked down at his reply. 'Can do. Will tell B'El. Update Tom.'
"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that. He's been waiting for you to finish work on the Flyer. Seems his clone is anxious to take her out for a spin. Shouldn't be more than a week or so."
"Speaking of being anxious, B'Elanna'll have time to give you that make-over you wanted."
The doctor laughed. "Yes...you know how it is. The Kamien officers feel more comfortable around someone that looks like them, and, if we are going to be here forever, it only makes sense."
The stage was set. The time table was give. Now, he could only hope that the pawns would go out willingly and easily.
The doors to the Doctor's laboratory swished open and a nervous looking Tanari entered the room grasping a PADD as if his very life depended upon the information gather there.
"I'll be back tomorrow to check in. I have a few things left to do on the ship before I call it a night," Harry said, turning and leaving the lab. The Doctor nodded before turning his attention to the young Kamien.
"Yes, Tanari? Is there something I can help you with?"
He took one hesitant step and then another before offering the hologram the PADD he held so tightly in his hand.
"The tests that I have been running on the most recent victims of this plague have shown something...disturbing shall I say."
"Oh? And what might that be?" The Doctor replied, frowning at the information on the screen. Tanari seemed to be unraveling his little creation much sooner than he had anticipated. All thoughts of handling the situation quietly were efficiently cut off when the shy Kamien spoke again.
"The virus seems to have mutated.... It's become airborne."
"What?" The hologram stammered, eyes flying up to meet the Kamien's. Thought he was only partially shocked to hear the news, he hadn't theorized it would have occured this soon.
"That's not possible. In all the simulations I ran it never..." His voice trailed off as his eyes flew to Tanari's, instantly trying to assess if his slipped comment had been detected. Seeing no response, he ventured his next question. Logical and yet not scientifically centered as you would expect. It was the human reaction. "Are you sure?"
"I ran the tests several times. Each time it was the same. I believe that it has something to do with the chemicals I found within their cell structure..."
The Doctor lowered his head to read over the tests, tuning the young man out. His skilled eyes darted from autopsy report to autopsy report. Graph after graph showed the same thing-- the serum he had created had become airborne.
"Doctor?" Tanari repeated, more forcefully.
"What?" he asked, his head shoot up in reaction.
"I asked if you thought it would be prudent to test all the men and place them into isolation, or just shut down The Farm to all outside Kamiens indefinitely."
"The Voyagar Plan's release is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Shutting down this place will only result in panic from the board members, and you know how much strain Kairon is under. I think we shouldn't bother him with this until we have come up with some way to treat it. Until then, treat the symptoms like we have been, terminate those that are in the advanced stages..."
"We're running low on guard clones, sir. There isn's enough of them left to cover the numbers that are dying or already dead, and many of my lower level scientists are already in the advanced stages."
The Doctor resisted the urge to smile at the last confession; it was the news he was hoping for. "Whatever it is that was the original cause has to be something they all had in common," he said, pausing. "What about their food? Don't all Kamiens eat the same meals?"
Tanari offered a genuine smile. "This is true. They do. Perhaps some of the new plant species we gathered from the Kazon vessel were not totally compatable with our cellular structure."
"Or it was a combination of several plant genes that were spliced together."
The Kamien scientists face fell. "That would leave hundreds if not thousands of possibilities."
"We'd better get started then," the Doctor said, rising from his stool. "I'll take the first greenhouse, and you start on the second. Have as many of the biologists that can be spared help you."
In his haste to exit, Tanari left the PADD behind. Fingering the sides of it, the Doctor picked it up, selecting all of the text, downloaded it into his matrix, and deleting all of the files from the PADD. As he exited the lab en route for the greenhouse, be began whisleing to himself as another subroutine worked on encrypting the files.
§ Ø §
Rough hands grabbed Tumeric's lapels and drug his corpse up from his position on the creamatorium's floor. A second man lifted his legs, guiding the body into the oven's great maw.
"Always said that I wanted to do this," Chell said, evenly. "Course, I was usually the one that pulled the trigger to begin with."
"You would have killed him first? I would have just thrown him in the damned thing alive," Ayela replied.
"Not much of a eulogy," Chell said, laughing.
"What were you expecting me to say? I loved you to death and hope you well in the next life?" Ayela said, pressing the button to expose the fire to Tumeric's flesh. His hand rose to wipe the sweat caused by the sudden heat.
"Why do you suppose they killed him?"
"My guess? Probably something to do with his not complyin'."
Both paused for a brief moment, realization that Tumeric was actually dead seeping in.
§ Ø §
The thinning line of crew members stood facing the main stage in The Yard. Tumeric's third in command now stood in front of them. He was a man that barely spoke but had mastered the fine art of scowling. Today, he stood proudly before them announcing that he had just been made the commanding officer. His victory speech was cut short with the deafening approach of three transport ships.
Murmurs broke out in the audience as the hatch opened to reveal several of Kairon's guards. Guns raised, they fanned out into a semi-circle. Behind them, a smaller group that all held scanning devices. They moved through the prisoners towards the Yard's guards, using tiny tricorders to scan their torsos. A single scientist yelled toward the lead vessel a single, three word phrase-- "Scans affirmative, sir."
In a few moments, Kairon exited the shuttle and walked slowly, purposfully toward the main stage. A brief, heated exchange passed between the new leader of The Yard and Kairon in hushed tones. The gathered crowd only picked up brief snatches of their conversation.
"--came to take command..."
"--won't be pushed around by some data pusher."
"--could have you killed..."
"--feels for the humans."
Kairon stepped back, adjusting his tunic with a great tug as his ghostly grey face turning red with anger. "At least I didn't contribute to Tumeric's plan to bring about End of Days."
One hand rose from his side to the brim of his hat, and, within seconds of that action, one of his men from the Farm hit his target with deadly accuracy. The third in command's body fell to the uneven planks of the platform like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Kairon turned and smiled apologetically to the crowd. " He was a non-compliant little man, wasn't he?" A deep silence feel upon the prisoners gathered.
"The Yard is being closed for the time being. You are to turn and enter the passanger vehicle one at a time. We are taking you to The Farm. Once there, you will be given food, new clothing, a shower, and be placed in isolation until the cause ot the virus afflicting the soldiers here in The Yard and Farm is determined," he exampled tersly before turning to the man exiting the lead shuttle.
"Ensign Kim, why don't you lead them out?" Kairon said, walking slowly toward the transport ship. Once inside, B'Elanna's eyes dashed towards his.
"Everything went smoothly," he said, smiling, propping his feet up on the con.
Next
Sydney Alexis
"Let be be finale of seem."
Stevens, The Emperor of Ice Cream
IX [Nine]
He walked through the winding, darkened streets of the capital making sure that he wasn't followed. The information that he'd gathered that afternoon and downloaded into the tiny PADD that he was carrying was damning, and the actions that he was about to take would count as treason if Kairon's men caught up to him before he delivered the information to Gepek.
The weather was violent that night. The winds were gusting at gale force. Wrapping his coat around his large frame, he continued down the sidewalk, careful to melt into the shadows provided by the streetlights. In the distance, the Industrial Order's main complex loomed. He could only vaugely recall what the building looked like. He knew he had been created here, programmed here, but the only time that he had been permitted to see the exterior was when he was being delivered to The Yard. There, he had served for the last seven years, never leaving the grounds he'd been created to work on, never questioning any orders he'd been given... until the Voyager Project was started.
"G'tan Tumeric?"
"What's it to you?" He asked turning towards the sound of the gruff voice.
"I understand that you have some information for me," the man said, stepping from the darkened doorway of the complex's security gate.
"Gepek?"
"No..." the voice said, softly. The sentence was never completed. A single shot echoed through the narrow alley despite the silencer that had been attached to the barrel.
"Your timing is impeccable, Kenoshia," G'tan said, chuckling. "A moment later and I would have been food for the ovens."
The two of them drug the man's body into the light cast from the street lamp.
"Well...well... would you look at this? Kairon sent his lap dog to play fetch," Kenoshia said, emptying the dead man's pockets. To the local authorities, it would look like a simple robbery gone wrong. To Kairon, the DNA traces left would be enough to identify who had done the deed and send a clear message-- Tumeric wasn't the simpleton that his creators had thought that he was.
A siren blared in the distance. "The authorities are coming. Time to get to the complex, sir."
"In a moment, Kenoshia, I want to capture this moment."
The elder man stood, gazing down at the body. It was a valiant moment for him knowing that he had killed a man- a superior- without being told to do so, and knowing that he would not be cancelled for his transgression filled him with a euphoria he had never experienced before.
"But, sir..." Kenoshia protested. They were standing in direct line of sight from several of the surrounding buildings. Anyone with a window facing this street could clearly make out their faces in the street lamps. Murder was still a punishable offense in the private sector. The Industrial Order would deny all knowledge of their status as members. It had happened before. They'd both been called in from time to time to deal with the accused.
Giving a sidelong gaze to his commanding officer, Kenoshia sighed. They would not be leaving immediately. He took a single step backward and blended into the shadows, scanning the rooflines for any snipers the Industrial Order may have dispatched.
"You and I were once no one. Both easily replaceable. Not much better than the man that served under us. We were just given slightly more training. Something like this... what Kairon did and is doing... it would be enough for us to be cancelled," he said, rising to his feet, meeting Kenoshia's gaze evenly. "Don't you see? We killed a superior, and no one will ever know. We have power over all of them, and I think that it's time for a change.
§Ø§
Tom sat with the small child in his arms so long he had lost all sense of
time. Never in his life had he been at such a loss of what to do. Watching her
tiny chest rise and fall, her eyes move rapidly in REM sleep just beneath the
delicate eyelids, he felt a lump rise in his throat. A child...his child...lay
in his arms, and the experience was horribly tainted.
In the distance, the nursery door opened, hesitant footsteps approached the
far end of the room where he sat. Even without looking up Tom knew who it was-
the same person that sought out lost souls on Voyager.
"Is there anything I can get you, Tom?" The voice said so softly.
"No, Neelix. I'm..." he said, looking down at the child in his
arms, "we're both okay," he amended.
"Why don't I believe that?"
Tom's eyebrow shot up at the comment, but he didn't say anything. He
acknowledged that everyone had changed since they had first arrived. Neelix was
no exception. The Talaxian had fallen into a familiar pattern- do what is
necessary to survive. At least he made the attempt to keep friendships alive.
"I wish Kes was here. She'd know what to do...say in this
situation."
"Not to mention blow a hole right through the complex," Tom said,
chuckling. Neelix joined him.
"She would probably say that I was being selfish. That I should
consider Hope before myself because she's a totally helpless innocent in all of
this."
"And she would be right."
"But good intentions aren't enough to raise a child. Believe me; I
know," Tom said, rising from the rocking chair and returning the child to
her crib, amazed that she didn't start crying. He returned to his seat, leaned
forward, and raked his hands through his hair.
Anger, boarding on rage, and sadness marred Tom's features as he paused long
enough to reign in the emotions coloring his voice. "I grew up in a household where my parents would fight constantly-
mostly about me. That was when they
were actually home. Most of the time it was just my sisters and I and the
housekeeper.
"I'd go over to friend's houses and see how in love their parents were.
How proud they were of the awards that they'd won, and I would be so jealous. I wasn't
stupid; I knew my parents only stayed together for appearance's sake. That the expected me to make top marks, win all the awards, graduate from Starfleet..." Tom started, burying his face in his hands as tears began to well in his eyes. This was yet another thing he had picked up from his father-- grown men don't cry. They don't reveal any emotion. Emotions are weaknesses that can be used to your enemy's advantage.
"And be exactly like your father-- straight up the ranks, not stopping until you were an admiral." Neelix finished.
"The whole
time that I was in that house I promised myself my children wouldn't be raised
in a household like that. "
"And you're afraid that you and the Captain would have that sort of
relationship?"
Tom paused to smile at Neelix. It was so rare to hear anyone say 'the
Captain' anymore. It was even rarer to be in contact with anyone from his old
life. To him, Voyager was a distant memory. Experience had taught him to live
in the now, not in the past.
"No, Neelix, I know we would. I'm not stupid. I know that she's
convinced herself that she loves me."
Tom turned his head towards the Talaxian at his side. "You want to know
how I presume to know her mind better than her, right? Simple really. When you
spend the better half of your life being thrown in and out of jail, you learn
to read people pretty well; it keeps you alive. Another trick I learned from a
lifer is to create illusions in your mind, fill it with things that make you
happy. Makes the time pass more quickly."
"And you think that she's used that to convince herself that she loves
you?" Tom nodded slowly.
"Let's say that this was
created by some fantasy. So what? It's only a question of time before we all
go. You might as well make sure that you both enjoy the time you have
left."
Tom opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Neelix. "You are not
your father, Tom. There is no doubt in my mind that, if you accept Hope, she
will never want for love. You might not give her the perfect life here, but at
least there can be some happiness."
"What about Kathryn? She's not going to take this well."
Neelix cleared his throat, wondering how to broach the next gap.
"She'll handle it in her own way, but you have to keep all of the other
attachments free."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have this image in your mind of the perfect family. Maybe you do
need to think of what is best for Hope. You and the Captain are close
friends..."
"And for her sake we should just keep it at that?"
"You said it yourself-- the Captain is only in love with you because of
this illusion. Kairon is right, this would cement it or shatter it. I know you
feel something for this child, but is it as strong if not stronger than what
you feel for her? Because, if you really love both of them as much as you say
you do..."
"Than I have to be willing to love Kathryn enough to just be her friend
if that's what she wants," Tom said, his chest tightening at the thought.
"Tell her about Hope with no strings and no pressure attached. The
sooner the better."
"And if I don't get the ending that I want...I'll just follow an old
lifer's advice."
§Ø§
"Aren't you tired yet, Tanari? We've been at this nearly sixteen hours straight."
The short, slender man turned toward the hologram and offered a weak smile. "I am use to lengthy hours. If I don't keep the time table that my superiors want, I will be killed. Then who would help you?"
"Still...some rest might help. A few hours will clear up your mind. I can keep working."
Tanari shook his head. "You know, I do envy you; you never grow tired. You will never die. The freedoms that you had and have now are those that I have never known."
"How so?"
"I've only been permitted to go outside the building when I was running errands. The last time that I saw the suns... felt them on my skin was six winters ago. I spend most of my time going from one lab to the next, working on one problem and then another."
The Doctor paused and put his scanner down. "When did all of this start? The Farm, The Yard?"
"I am not to speak of such things. No outsiders may know."
"Tanari, in all likelihood I will spend the rest of my days in this lab just as you have. I would like to know...to understand why."
The Kamien nodded and sat on one of the stools near the Doctor's table. By the time his tale was over, the Doctor had wished he had never asked.
§Ø§
It was nearly dawn by the time that Tom left the nursery. He had gained Kairon's permission to take the following day off as the Doctor had explained to him that 'being overly distracted by distressing news lowers productivity rate and raises the likelihood of injury' and that the Doctor had 'spent enough valuable time tending to his wounds.'
His head was down as he rounded yet another corner. For the better part of an hour, he had paced the corridors, delaying his return home. Telling himself he was merely taking time to think things over, he had made the rounds of the living quarters several times, passing by his own and continuing on. It was on one of those trips that he bumped into someone. Muttering an excuse, he started on his path again. He'd only gotten a few feet when a distinct voice called his name.
Disbelieving eyes met. "But you're dead. You both are. We saw them bury you alive."
"Heard the same rumor about you too. Guess it didn't stick," Harry said, laughing. Tom took in the differences in both his friend and the woman beside him. They were both thinner than the last time he had seen them, and their eyes had deep black marks beneath them belying a lack of sleep.
"God, it's good to see you, Tom," B'Elanna said, stepping toward him, trapping him in a tight hug. Tentatively returning it, he felt his chest tighten. Before this place, they had been dating. Now she was a reminder of a life he had all but left behind. In the course of his year on Kamien, he had fallen in love with someone else... someone with whom he now had a child. A family that he was duty bound to protect. How many more surprises was the day going to hold?
"Who else?" He managed. His voice sounded strained to his own ears.
"Tuvok, Neelix, Chakotay, Seven, and a handful of others. Mostly science officers. What about the Captain?" Harry's voice at the last was colored with a little too much hope and emphasis. A sick feeling entered Tom as he forced himself to answer.
"Kathryn's alive. Barely. Nearly lost her a few weeks back when the sewing factory burned down," Tom answered, trying to hide the emotion in his voice and failing. Both of his friends picked up on the hitch in his tone as he recalled the events and the fact that he had used her first name. Swallowing hard, he ventured, "She's not the person you knew. I don't think that anyone is."
"Do you think she'd still be able to act as Captain?" Harry asked. Tom's eyes flew from inspecting his hands to lock on him. His stomach lurched. Oh god. Oh god no. His mind kept repeating the same phrase over hand over.
"She's still Kathryn. Just a little different. Can't say any of us are the same." He explained. The two nodded.
"B'El and I've come up with an escape plan. We've already set it in motion. Just need you to tell her to be ready when the time comes."
The walls were suddenly moving in on him. He was having trouble breathing, concentrating as he felt his life totally and utterly slipping out of control. It was happening too fast. Realizing that they were waiting for an acknowledgement, he nodded slowly wondering if he had kept the look of disbelief off of his face.
B'Elanna looked nervously around them. "We had better be going or we'll be late. We'll find a way to get word to you." After murmuring a quick goodbye, the pair took off in the opposite direction of they came, and Tom continued down the hall to his quarters.
When he arrived home, he found that Kathryn was still asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he silently padded across the living room straight to the sofa. He sank down onto the inviting cushions, untied the laces of his boots, kicked them off beside the coffee table, and pulled the afghan off the back of the sofa to cover himself.
He'd intended on telling her about Hope tonight, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Circumstances had changed drastically. B'Elanna and Harry's newest escape attempt would either get all of them killed, get Hope killed as 'punishment,' or would be successful which would mean loosing Kathryn permanently.
Though he felt bone tired, he couldn't find sleep easily. Torn between telling her about Hope and about possible freedom, he took the night to digest the news before telling her. At least this way one of them would have a decent night's sleep.
§Ø§
Kairon stood behind the wall of monitors in his office. He'd been staring at the main view for so long that his eyes had unfocused. The muted newscast was filled with a special broadcast about the murder victim found just blocks from the Industrial Order's Complex. Without seeing the body, he knew that it was his favored assistant. Although protocol dictated he put in the order for Talken's replacement as well as a sweeper team, he was having trouble making the call. Ten years they had worked together, and, in all that time, Talken had never failed him. He had even gone so far as to worry about his master's health.
Sighing, he raked a hand through his hair. It was a mannerism that he had picked up from watching Alpha Voyager 04--one that his assistant had pointed out on several occasions.
The door to his office slid open, revealing a weary looking Tanari.
"You asked for me, sir?"
He was shaking, and rightly so. Word had spread around the compound that Kairon had locked himself away in his office that morning, refusing all calls. When he was brooding as he was now, he was a dangerous man to be around.
"Talken's clone is in the cryo chamber still?"
"Yes, sir. It just needs a few uploads of data before it is sent to you. It should only take a week or so," the worker said, pausing. "Does this mean that he is no more?"
Kairon motioned from Tanari to come in. Walking with great trepidation, he approached and slid into the seat across from his master.
"It was an intentional move, Talken. Tumeric killed him and is probably planning on releasing information about the compound to the general public."
"But if the private sector finds out how the government has been supplying their needs..."
"They'll be public outrage. The government will be overthrown...blah blah blah....I've seen the scenarios. I even wrote some of the damned things. So much irony in the situation, isn't there, Tanari? They know that we have few resources left and yet they never question where we acquire them. We were created to serve them. To keep them all comfortable without letting them know how. We've done this for years..."
"And if any information was leaked to the public, Project Farm will be cancelled. All documents destroyed. As well as all prototypes."
Kairon nodded, returning his glare to the TV screen behind him. His hand went to the console in front of him where he entered the orders to send out the sweeper team. They would discard of the body and erase all evidence linking him to the Industrial Order as well as take out the two rouge clones.
"Suppose this means that you'll want to step up the Voyager project."
"You have four weeks. No more. Use them wisely."
§Ø§
"Are you sure this is going to work?" B'Elanna asked, looking over the PADD the Doctor had provided her. He nodded gravely at her.
"They all contain a small amount of Kamien DNA. It was necessary for them to use donor eggs in the beginning to create human life. By creating hybrids, they were able to ensure that their replicas were capable of surviving the tougher climate here."
Nodding her understanding, B'Elanna sighed. "I'm going to start embedding the coding into the program tonight. It should only take me a day or so per alogrhythm to hide this. Harry'll back me up laying false trails. I'll need you to cover the camera; put them on a loop like I showed you."
"And what makes you think that they won't notice?"
"Guards are all jumpy. I've heard that they're worried about what Kairon might do now that his favorite muscle got himself killed."
She paused, hiding the PADD in her boot before turning her gaze on the Doctor again.
"Remember to tell Tom about the timetable," B'Elanna started, then off the Doctor's sunken expression added. "What's with him? He seems...off. Least he did when Harry and I ran into him last night."
"Seems that this place has left him with his own demons to deal with."
"You told him about The Replicas, didn't you?"
"In a way, yes."
"Don't tell me he got attached to his other self." B'Elanna said, laughing at her own joke, but stopped abruptly at the Doctor's serious expression.
"There is more going on than you know about, Lieutenant. Tom and Captain Janeway stand to loose the most in this arrangement, and I'm not totally sure they'll survive your little scheme."
B'Elanna opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when the Doctor raised his hand. "It's not my place to tell you. I will relay the message."
X [Ten]
"All were endangered;
young and old were hunted down
by the dark death shadow who lurked
and swooped in the long nights of the misty moors."
Beowulf 83-85
He ran. His chest burning from the sudden overuse of his lungs. The object he carried in his sweat soaked palm was the true cause of his death march. A tiny data PADD that fit perfectly into his right hand contained all of the information that his master had died to collect. Heavy footfalls echoed through the streets as the Kamien soldiers closed in on him. With his final destination in sight, he picked up his pace. Legs burning from the sudden burst, he slipped the data entry device into rose bush beside private residence's front door before running out into the street.
In the distance, he could make out the silhouette of scent hounds yapping their way toward him. He knew without a doubt that where they apprehended him was where they would start their search for the PADD; it was what he had been trained to do. With a silent muttering of pain, he lunched himself over a nearby fence and bolted for the forest just beyond the sleepy neighborhood. There, he could wade through the river that wound through it, washing his scent away, before racing toward the mountains.
No sooner had he reached the edge of the woods than he heard the nearby shouts of soldiers and dogs. They were closing in quickly. His left hand came up to the wound on his left side. It bled heavily through his thick overcoat. His time was coming soon just as it should be. His work was finished, and it was better to die quickly and quietly than in a Kamien interrogation facility. Shedding his blood soaked coat and shirt, he ventured out of the woods, through the protective shield, and into the bitter cold of the mountain's base. The once distant yells of the soldiers grew closer, but he didn't care. His work was done.
The cold ate through his skin, cooling it at incredible speeds. The snowflakes he'd watched from a safe distance now fell on his bare shoulders, and he watched with awe as they suddenly stopped melting.
A dog howled in warning as the pack picked up his scent. More yelling from men this time. He closed his eyes, feeling his very blood turn to ice.
"Kenoshia, come through the barrier. Sitting in the cold like that will only lead you to your death."
The ampule clicked between his molars. Designed to remove all memory engrams from his mind, it was standard issue to higher ranking officials within the Kamien government in case they were captured by the enemy. It was a gift that had been given to Tumeric by the source they had leaked the original information to. End of days was coming, and he was glad he wouldn't be there to see it.
§ Ø §
Mortimer Harrin, sat on the narrow stool to which he had been assigned, cursing violently at the machine in front of him. If there was one thing he hated more than manual labor it was being forced to do it on archaic technology. His placement in the newly rebuilt sewing factory had been his own fault; he'd questioned a Kamien superior officier about his poor choice of conduit wiring in the electricity grid. Of course he'd received a sound thrashing and been forced into the most minial and repetitive jobs there was.
The gentle murmuring of the machines around him and the hypnotic pacing of the guards was enough to lull him into sleep. His hand slipped yet again, and, for what seemed the four hundred time that day, the needle became unthreaded. Of course, the thread itself had to become tangled. He lifted the needle, pulled the fabric only to find stuck in the tiny hole for the bobbin's feeder. Rather than carefully extracting it like he had the first dozen or so times it had happened, he cut it out, rethread the needle, and continued. At least, if they killed him for doing such a horrible job, he would be free of this machine and this place.
Mistake number 473 occurred not because of mechanical problems or lack of know how. It was caused by a guard losing his step and falling within the direction of his machine, ripping the powercord from the back. He flew back off of his stool and rised his hands in the air.
"I didn't do that. You saw that I didn't do that, right?" His eyes dashing from guard to guard.
"Don't just stand there, you idiot, see what's wrong,"one of the guards yelled. Chell stepped forward, pulling the guard from Harrin's work station and setting him none to gently on the ground. He was sweat soaked and delirious, mumbling non-coherent phrases about the End of Days. Deep crimson blood tricked from his nose, and his body was trembling uncontrolably.
"I think he's dehydrated maybe. Do you have any water for him to drink?" Chell ventured. A murmur broke out through the crowd. One prisoner took the initiative to race to the well near the center of camp and draw a bucket full of water. The mumbling only stopped as the ladel full of water was raised to the guard's parched lips.
A blue beam surrounded the guard and he disappeared instintaneously leaving Chell crouched beside a vast, empty space. The guard that had spoken to them stepped back, clearly showing some of the same symptoms his comrade had. His eyes darted around at the workers that had left their stations to see what was happening. Then, he cast a weary gaze at the only other guard on duty. An unspoken agreement passed between them before he bellowed more orders.
"Line up; we're bringing you back to your cells for lunch today."
Harrin's elbow dug into Chell's side as they marched. "Great going, Florence Nightengale. What were you expecting? A medal?"
"Harrin, if you weren't so busy trying to make everyone miserable by extolling your theories then maybe just maybe you would have noticed the look in those guard's faces."
"Yeah. They were terrified that we were going to rebel and take them out," he gruffed, dragging his chains behind him."
"You really do suck at human interaction, don't you?" Ayela called out from behind them. "What Chell meant was that the guard that went down had the same kind of 'attack' that all the other guards have had before they were mysteriously beamed away too."
"And a lot of those same symptoms..."
"Are being displayed by these guards. I got that. So what? All the Kamiens are getting some nasty bug?"
"Which means that sooner or later we could just walk right on out of here without a fight."
"You think they're just going to lower their little shield and let us all skip merrily into the sunset? You two are completely crazy."
"Every morning at exactly 6:15 the shield goes down for ten minutes to allow the workers needed to deliever bodies to the creamatorium leave."
"So, if we timed it right, we'd all be able to walk out."
"Right into the new batch of guards walking in." Harrin volleyed, rolling his eyes at the two conspiritors.
"There's only a finite amount of guards that any group of people can have. If all of them got sick or died from whatever this is..." Chell started.
"Then they'd call out their reserve troops to kill us all before we could escape."
"You're also one of the most negative people I've ever come across. Get over it, Harrin. It'll work." Ayela interjected.
"And if it doesn't everyone on your cell blocks will be dead which is...oh say...everybody left from Voyager."
§ Ø §
The clones stood in eleven lines waiting patiently for their latest injection. This one would take them from age 8 to 12 in a few hours. The following day, they would be given the shot that would level them out to the appropriate age. Young Kathryn came first. She stepped up to Tom with a board smile across her face. The type that reached her eyes. The kind that he hadn't seen from the original Kathryn since he had begun keeping long hours to see Hope.
"Good Morning, Lieutenant Paris."
He winked at her, "Morning, Captain," he teased, pressing the hypospray to her neck.
"You're still taking me out on the shuttle tomorrow, aren't you?" Her voice was filled with youth, overly eager enthusiasum, and an inquizative mind he recalled the original Kathryn having not some long ago. The being in front of him was like a living thing. Bright, shiny, untainted, but, more than anything else, happy and his heart broke for her and the women she would become.
"Of course I am. Don't I always keep my promises?"
§ Ø §
B'Elanna stood at her post on the bridge of Voyager outfitting the con position to include the controls for the new propulsion systems. A lone guard loomed above her. She turned a wary eye on him, watching him sway slightly yet again. A clumbsy hand rose to his brow, wiping the sweat it encountered. Normally, she would have had her own troupe watching over her, but a number of guards had fallen mysteriously ill. All of the displaying remarkably similar symptoms. A cruel smile twisted at her lips, forcing her to lower her head slightly.
"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't look well," she said, standing, voice colored with humor. "In fact, you look even paler than normal."
The hand that held his gun at his side rose in the air slowly as he struggled to target her. The strike held little strength and they both knew it. His mouth opened to speak but the words came out in a stuttering mess.
She tilted her head to the side, making a mental note to tell the doctor that the infection's incubation time was excellerating with each generation it was infecting.
With dispassionate interest, she watched him sink to his knees. The color drained from his face, his lips grew blue tinged, and he his hands began to twitch as he lost motor control. Within seconds a transport beam enveloped the guard and he was replaced with another. One that was still in the early stages.
"Get back to work," he growled. She did as was ordered trying carefully to conceal the smile on her face.
§ Ø §
The Doctor sat in his lab, staring down at the latest scans he'd run of the Kamien soldiers at The Farm. The compound that he had created was working perfectly according to the chart. Facts and figures and illness all neatly diagramed. Life and death projections like those found in a history text he'd had entered into his matrix. Funny how it felt different when you knew what each of their faces looked like.
"Maybe they'll name the serum after me," he mused to himself, flipping the PADD off and throwing it onto the steel counter that his feet were currently propped up on. Empty hands came to rest on his bald head. Fingers threaded through one another as a content smile spread across his face.
Four months ago, B'Elanna had come to him looking for a fast, easy way to disable the guards. She and Harry were working on outfitting Voyager with the Kamien-based propulsion system. The access they were given allowed them to work on an escape route-- one that was more complex than digging to freedom but also had a much higher success rate.The Doctor agreed to come up with a means if she came up with the method. The engineer was quick to point out the drug could easily be slipped into the weekly injections that the enhanced Kamiens received to keep their systems from rejecting the added sequencing. When he'd delievered the formula for her to enter into the computer system's data core, he'd failed to mention the unfortunate side effect of his invention.
It was a miracle design really. A virus that attacks only Kamien DNA in the very medium used to replicate it-- the mitochondria. The shot would convince the cell to create nucleic acids that were tainted with mutant strands of DNA. These strands were unable to be paired with existing RNA or be broken down into ATP, the sugar that provides the energy for cell division. In other words, their cells would run out of the body's form of gasoline. Without gasoline, the cell's 'engine' would burn and the car, or, in this case, the Kamien soldier, would die. The more of their own people's DNA in their system, the quicker the infection would spread.
As soon as he had seen the evidence that his creation was working, he had begun writing an article for the United Federation of Planet's Medical Jounral. He was sure his entry would gain him attention when they returned home. It wasn't every day that a hologram single-handedly rescued an entire crew from certain death.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Ensign?" He asked, swerving around in his chair.
"I've come to check your holomatrix," he said, looking from the doctor to the camera in the corner and back.
"Working at peak effeciency," he said, picking up the PADD he was holding earlier and handed it to the young man. "And you?"
Harry looked over the message written below the graph. 'Serum working faster than anticipated. Scheduled extration needs to be moved up at least two days.' It read. Harry typed in a response and handed the PADD back to the doctor.
"Doing just fine, Doc. Might even be able to clear enough spare time to help Tom."
The doctor casually looked down at his reply. 'Can do. Will tell B'El. Update Tom.'
"I'm sure he'll be glad to hear that. He's been waiting for you to finish work on the Flyer. Seems his clone is anxious to take her out for a spin. Shouldn't be more than a week or so."
"Speaking of being anxious, B'Elanna'll have time to give you that make-over you wanted."
The doctor laughed. "Yes...you know how it is. The Kamien officers feel more comfortable around someone that looks like them, and, if we are going to be here forever, it only makes sense."
The stage was set. The time table was give. Now, he could only hope that the pawns would go out willingly and easily.
The doors to the Doctor's laboratory swished open and a nervous looking Tanari entered the room grasping a PADD as if his very life depended upon the information gather there.
"I'll be back tomorrow to check in. I have a few things left to do on the ship before I call it a night," Harry said, turning and leaving the lab. The Doctor nodded before turning his attention to the young Kamien.
"Yes, Tanari? Is there something I can help you with?"
He took one hesitant step and then another before offering the hologram the PADD he held so tightly in his hand.
"The tests that I have been running on the most recent victims of this plague have shown something...disturbing shall I say."
"Oh? And what might that be?" The Doctor replied, frowning at the information on the screen. Tanari seemed to be unraveling his little creation much sooner than he had anticipated. All thoughts of handling the situation quietly were efficiently cut off when the shy Kamien spoke again.
"The virus seems to have mutated.... It's become airborne."
"What?" The hologram stammered, eyes flying up to meet the Kamien's. Thought he was only partially shocked to hear the news, he hadn't theorized it would have occured this soon.
"That's not possible. In all the simulations I ran it never..." His voice trailed off as his eyes flew to Tanari's, instantly trying to assess if his slipped comment had been detected. Seeing no response, he ventured his next question. Logical and yet not scientifically centered as you would expect. It was the human reaction. "Are you sure?"
"I ran the tests several times. Each time it was the same. I believe that it has something to do with the chemicals I found within their cell structure..."
The Doctor lowered his head to read over the tests, tuning the young man out. His skilled eyes darted from autopsy report to autopsy report. Graph after graph showed the same thing-- the serum he had created had become airborne.
"Doctor?" Tanari repeated, more forcefully.
"What?" he asked, his head shoot up in reaction.
"I asked if you thought it would be prudent to test all the men and place them into isolation, or just shut down The Farm to all outside Kamiens indefinitely."
"The Voyagar Plan's release is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Shutting down this place will only result in panic from the board members, and you know how much strain Kairon is under. I think we shouldn't bother him with this until we have come up with some way to treat it. Until then, treat the symptoms like we have been, terminate those that are in the advanced stages..."
"We're running low on guard clones, sir. There isn's enough of them left to cover the numbers that are dying or already dead, and many of my lower level scientists are already in the advanced stages."
The Doctor resisted the urge to smile at the last confession; it was the news he was hoping for. "Whatever it is that was the original cause has to be something they all had in common," he said, pausing. "What about their food? Don't all Kamiens eat the same meals?"
Tanari offered a genuine smile. "This is true. They do. Perhaps some of the new plant species we gathered from the Kazon vessel were not totally compatable with our cellular structure."
"Or it was a combination of several plant genes that were spliced together."
The Kamien scientists face fell. "That would leave hundreds if not thousands of possibilities."
"We'd better get started then," the Doctor said, rising from his stool. "I'll take the first greenhouse, and you start on the second. Have as many of the biologists that can be spared help you."
In his haste to exit, Tanari left the PADD behind. Fingering the sides of it, the Doctor picked it up, selecting all of the text, downloaded it into his matrix, and deleting all of the files from the PADD. As he exited the lab en route for the greenhouse, be began whisleing to himself as another subroutine worked on encrypting the files.
§ Ø §
Rough hands grabbed Tumeric's lapels and drug his corpse up from his position on the creamatorium's floor. A second man lifted his legs, guiding the body into the oven's great maw.
"Always said that I wanted to do this," Chell said, evenly. "Course, I was usually the one that pulled the trigger to begin with."
"You would have killed him first? I would have just thrown him in the damned thing alive," Ayela replied.
"Not much of a eulogy," Chell said, laughing.
"What were you expecting me to say? I loved you to death and hope you well in the next life?" Ayela said, pressing the button to expose the fire to Tumeric's flesh. His hand rose to wipe the sweat caused by the sudden heat.
"Why do you suppose they killed him?"
"My guess? Probably something to do with his not complyin'."
Both paused for a brief moment, realization that Tumeric was actually dead seeping in.
§ Ø §
The thinning line of crew members stood facing the main stage in The Yard. Tumeric's third in command now stood in front of them. He was a man that barely spoke but had mastered the fine art of scowling. Today, he stood proudly before them announcing that he had just been made the commanding officer. His victory speech was cut short with the deafening approach of three transport ships.
Murmurs broke out in the audience as the hatch opened to reveal several of Kairon's guards. Guns raised, they fanned out into a semi-circle. Behind them, a smaller group that all held scanning devices. They moved through the prisoners towards the Yard's guards, using tiny tricorders to scan their torsos. A single scientist yelled toward the lead vessel a single, three word phrase-- "Scans affirmative, sir."
In a few moments, Kairon exited the shuttle and walked slowly, purposfully toward the main stage. A brief, heated exchange passed between the new leader of The Yard and Kairon in hushed tones. The gathered crowd only picked up brief snatches of their conversation.
"--came to take command..."
"--won't be pushed around by some data pusher."
"--could have you killed..."
"--feels for the humans."
Kairon stepped back, adjusting his tunic with a great tug as his ghostly grey face turning red with anger. "At least I didn't contribute to Tumeric's plan to bring about End of Days."
One hand rose from his side to the brim of his hat, and, within seconds of that action, one of his men from the Farm hit his target with deadly accuracy. The third in command's body fell to the uneven planks of the platform like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Kairon turned and smiled apologetically to the crowd. " He was a non-compliant little man, wasn't he?" A deep silence feel upon the prisoners gathered.
"The Yard is being closed for the time being. You are to turn and enter the passanger vehicle one at a time. We are taking you to The Farm. Once there, you will be given food, new clothing, a shower, and be placed in isolation until the cause ot the virus afflicting the soldiers here in The Yard and Farm is determined," he exampled tersly before turning to the man exiting the lead shuttle.
"Ensign Kim, why don't you lead them out?" Kairon said, walking slowly toward the transport ship. Once inside, B'Elanna's eyes dashed towards his.
"Everything went smoothly," he said, smiling, propping his feet up on the con.
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