hands on her cheeks. "It's getting hotter," she said. And
then they both noticed that the hue of the wall was
changing, too. It had lost all hints of blue and was now a
purple with decidedly red undertones.
"Mr. Paris, have you ever achieved orbit directly from
warp?" "No, ma'am, I can't say that I have."
"Well, this is your chance."
Tom Paris turned and glanced at the captain, though he
knew she was serious. "Ma'am?"
"I want to get our people back. But in all likelihood, the
Kazon are still monitoring the planet. I want to stay at
warp speed until we're behind the limb, then go directly
into orbit."
Janeway watched as Tom pondered this dangerous feat. She
could almost hear his mind working, making the necessary
calculations. A moment passed, and then he glanced up at
her.
"Captain, begging your pardon, but have you ever
accomplished this?" "No, Lieutenant, but I've heard of its
being done. Therefore it's a possibility."
"Yes, ma'am. What warp factor did you want to use?" "The
highest we can and still pull this off."
Tom turned again to his console, and ran his fingers over
the touch-sensitive surface. Janeway knew he was entering
parameters for one of the most difficult calculations he'd
ever attempted to perform. The navigational computer,
assisted by the multivariate computational skills of
Voyager's neural gel packs, would consider rates of
acceleration and deceleration, the gravitational fields of
the planet and its sun, the effect of the drag from the
farthest reaches of the planet's upper atmosphere, and the
performance efficiencies of the ship's warp nacelles. Tom
was reviewing these numbers as they flashed across his
screen. But even the extraordinary power of Voyager's
computer system couldn't make the final choice among
several viable trajectories; no computer could possibly
take into account every subtle variable and contingency in
such a complex calculation. Only the intuition of a gifted
and experienced pilot could be trusted to make the final
choice of heading and speed. And Janeway was banking on
Tom's ability to do just that: to make a choice based on
what felt right.
Finally, she saw him take a deep, quiet breath. "I think I
can pull it off at warp four point two, Captain," he said,
his voice betraying no hint of anxiety over the importance
of this decision. "Then do it."
"Aye, warp four point two. Engaging. . ."
There was a slight hesitation as he took a careful breath;
she sensed him stilling his mind, concentrating on the
task. "Now."
Voyager leapt to warp. At this speed, the planet was only
a few minutes away from the shell of gas and dust clouds
surrounding the distant reaches of the star system.
Getting there would be easy; the hard part would be
bringing the ship into orbit a microsecond before Voyager
slammed into the planet at over a hundred times the speed
of light.
"Full power to inertial dampers," ordered Janeway crisply.
She wanted to project an air of confidence about this
maneuver. "Twelve seconds to orbit," said Tom, his voice as
calm as hers. His fingers tapped the console, programming a
few last corrections before entering the automatic
deceleration sequence. On the main viewscreen, the image of
the planet grew at an alarming rate.
Janeway made herself focus on it, trying to shut out doubt
as to the outcome of this maneuver. If it didn't work, she
thought, at least the end would be instantaneous. Tom's
voice didn't waver as he began to call out. "Dropping out
of warp in five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one
. . ."
The ship lurched violently, throwing everyone forward.
Even at maximum power the inertial damping field couldn't
completely compensate for the enormous change in
acceleration. The ship listed slightly, and for one brief
instant Janeway thought they had lost control and would hit
the planet's atmosphere and incinerate from the friction.
But then Voyager eased into a gentle free fall a thousand
kilometers above the surface. She looked down at Tom Paris,
who was a little pale but smiling. He had every right to be
pleased with himself. "Good work, Mr.
Paris," she said mildly.
He turned in his seat and looked up at her. His saucy
confidence had returned in full. "Nothing to it," he
grinned. "See if you can find our people,"
Janeway began, but Chakotay was ahead of her, already
manning his station, directing the sensors to scan for life
signs of their crew.
"Captain, a Kazon ship has come into orbit on the opposite
side of the planet."
"Then they'll find us in minutes. Any luck, Commander?"
"Negative. I see Kazon signs-about forty of thembut none of
ours."
Janeway considered. That could mean Tuvok had found refuge
in a place that was shielded from sensors.
It could also mean that the entire away team was dead.
But if that were true, why would Kazon forces stay on the
surface? Why would the ship be monitoring the planet? She
had to assume her people were alive, shielded, waiting for
rescue.
"The Kazon ship is moving this way," intoned Paris. They
still couldn't risk a shoot-out with the Kazon; weapons
arrays were dubious at best.
They had no choice but to retreat again.
"Take us out of here the same way you got us here,
Lieutenant. At warp." "Aye, Captain."
Before this day is over I'm going to have this maneuver
down pat, thought Paris, as he rocketed Voyager from orbit.
Chakotay turned to her. "If Tuvok
were here, he'd remind you that retreat is always an
option. And that the soundest strategy protects the many at
the expense of the few."
"But he's not here. And I'm not quitting until every
option has been explored. Put on your thinking cap,
Commander. We're going to figure out how to rescue our
people."
Chakotay smiled, and Janeway returned it, reminded once
more of how very glad she was to have him at her side.
'16
ENSIGN KATHRYN JANEWAY WATCHED AS
EARTH RECEDED, and remembered that first flight years ago,
when she and her father had taken the shuttle to Mars. She
could still recall the visceral thrill she felt as the blue
and white marble grew smaller and smaller and finally
became just a dot of light in the blackness of space. It
was her first lesson, repeated here today, in the va/s of
space, of Earth's relative unimportance in the heavens, and
of man's place in the universe as just one species among
many.
Her father had told her, when she was small, that a
thousand years ago people believed that Earth was the
center of the universe, that all other heavenly bodies
revolved around it. When Copernicus suggested otherwise,
and Galileo proved it, they weren't lauded for their
discoveries; they were castigated. People then had raged at
the truth rather than embrace it.
Kathryn had always found it comforting to feel part of a
vast family. First was the family of humankind, a planet of
beings who were at one with each other, who had long ago
stopped battling over imaginary lines in the ground, and
who lived in peace and harmony. But to consider oneself
part of an even greater groupof the family of the galaxies
and all their myriad specieswas to feel a fortunate child,
with billions of aunts, uncles, and cousins, to be alone
nowhere in the universe. To Kathryn that was one of the
wondrous privileges of life in a spacefaring age.
Now, sitting on the bridge of the starship Icarus, with
Admiral Paris in command, setting off on an expedition into
deep space in order to study massive compact halo objects,
she thought she could know no greater happiness. She was
actually the junior science officer on this mission, tapped
by the admiral for his recently sanctioned Arias expedition
just one year after she'd completed a doctoral degree in
quantum cosmology. It was heady stuff for one so young to
be chosen for such an important mission. She sensed a
presence near her station and realized Admiral Paris had
moved closer to her, still staring at the viewscreen, where
Earth was now a small dot, blue turning to white.
"That's the last you'll see of home for at least a year,
Ensign," he said. "I hope you won't be getting homesick on
me."
She looked up at him, unsure whether he was kidding or
not. She had learned that he had a wonderful, wry sense of
humor, and enjoyed tweaking those he liked. But his style
was so dry it often blurred the line between joke and
truth.
"I'm not the homesick type, sir," she replied, preferring
to play it safe by taking him seriously. But she wasn't
surprised when his eyes twinkled and he grinned at her.
"Actually, Ensign, you're the last person I'd suspect of
that particular malady."
He didn't explain himself further, and Kathryn found 177
herself wondering if the admiral thought a lack of
susceptibility to homesickness was a good thing or a bad
one. And then she wondered why it mattered so much what he
thought.
"I'd like to meet with the science team at eleven hundred
hours," continued the admiral. "I don't think you've met
everyone yet."
"No, sir. I'm looking forward to it."
Actually, she was fitfully anxious about that encounter.
She was bound to be the youngest and least experienced of
the group, a fact of which she was sure they were all
aware. Would they accept her? Would they respect her? Did
they resent the admiral bringing a raw ensign on such a
far-ranging and scientifically significant expedition?
She would have to prove herself to them.
But as it happened, there was only one person with whom
that would prove to be necessary. When they convened in the
wardroom later that morning, Kathryn sensed nothing but
friendship and receptivity from most of the people in the
room as Admiral Paris introduced them. "May I present
Commander T'Por, whose expertise in astrophysics is
legendary." Kathryn looked into the solemn eyes of an
elegant Vulcan woman of whom she'd already heard a great
deal. "Lieutenant Darren Ditillo, a seasoned space traveler
with proficiency in astrometric analysis." A small, wiry
man in his late thirties with thinning hair and a ready
smile shook her hand enthusiastically. "Ensign Sally
Rhodes, only a few years out of the Academy but already
well respected in the field of condensed matter physics."
The young woman was only a few years older than she, and
Kathryn was comforted to know there was a friendly peer
among the group. They all seemed welcoming, and Kathryn
began to relax. But there was one other person in the
group.
"And this is Lieutenant Justin Tighe, our engineering 178
liaison." Kathryn shook the hand of a lean, muscular man
of about thirty with dark, tousled hair, whose grip was
confident and whose eyes-deep, blue eyes-were challenging.
"Welcome aboard, Ensign," he said with a smile that was at
once knowing and confrontational.
Kathryn felt an unease that began at her fingertips and
radiated up her arms and into her cheeks, which she
realized were flushing. "Thank you, sir," she murmured,
withdrew her hand and took her seat at the polished black
table in the wardroom. She sat with her back to the wide
window, outside which the ethereal streaks of warp stars
illuminated the darkness of space. It was a sight that
still mesmerized her, and she didn't want to be distracted
during this meeting.
It meant, however, that she sat right next to Justin
Tighe. "I'm gratified to be leading this expedition,"
Admiral Paris began. "You all know that I've been intrigued
by massive compact halo objects for a great many years. We
are, of course, heading for the galactic rim, six hundred
light-years beyond Deep Space Station Seven, where there's
a suspected "birthplace' of these enigmatic phenomena. I'd
like to convene daily seminars for all of us to trade
information and ideas so
we'll be snapped in by the time we get there."
There was nothing remarkable in what Admiral Paris was
saying, and Kathryn found herself uncomfortably aware of
Lieutenant Tighe next to her. She kept her face turned away
from him, toward the admiral at the head of the table, but
his presence was palpable. She forced herself to shut him
out, to focus entirely on the admiral, who was up on his
feet now, pacing the room, pausing to stand by the window
and stare out at the star streaks as he talked.
"There is, however, another aspect to this expedition. One
which it was necessary to conceal from you until we had
left Earth because of its topsecret nature."
He had everyone's rapt attention now. His voice was grave
as he continued. "Ours is certainly a scientific endeavor,