“To do what?”
“I don’t honestly know,” O’Donnell admitted. “I could spend the next several years doing nothing but reading Patel’s files and it would bring me no closer, I fear, to understanding the most basic properties of the Edrehmaia. I wonder if at any time in their development they were more like us, or if they have ever even known what it is to grapple with hunger, pain, loss, or love. There is such purity in their creations. They seem beyond any parochial notions. They have harnessed the power to reshape the physical universe to some unknown purpose. But does their existence so far removed from our experience of being alive deny them community with the wider universe? Is that something they would ever think to miss?”
“Perhaps not,” Janeway said. “I do know, however, that it is essential to my existence, I dare say, to ours. What good is knowledge if it cannot be shared?”
“Anxious as I am to find them, the closer we get, the more I wonder what of any significance I might even ask them.”
“Why? When? How? I’d start with the basics,” Janeway suggested.
Disappointment flashed across O’Donnell’s face.
“So often out here, we encounter alien life that is quite similar to ours,” Janeway continued. “Those that are truly unique, that clearly did not evolve as we did, are few and far between and often incapable of connection in any meaningful way beyond acknowledgment and a willingness to coexist peacefully. But we are not diminished by those encounters. They are an invitation to imagine beyond our limitations, and that is truly the work of a life and a lifetime.”
“They humble me, Admiral. And I don’t care much for that feeling.”
Janeway smiled. “Yes, but I wonder how many lives have been extended by humility. There are things we cannot know until we are ready. And we, as we are, may never be. But we are not the end of humanity. I hope we aren’t even its midpoint. Sometimes the best we can do is offer those who will come after us a glimpse into their own potential future. It’s a gift, just one that we will never be permitted to unwrap.”
The door chimed and Decan returned, setting a pot of fresh coffee and an empty mug along with a tall glass of something steaming on the low table in the admiral’s informal seating area.
“Thank you, Decan,” Janeway said as she crossed to pour herself a cup.
“Engineering…”
“Is waiting, I know,” Janeway acknowledged, dismissing him with a nod. When he had gone, she brought the steaming glass to O’Donnell for inspection. He sniffed it, then sipped it gingerly.
“Well?” she asked.
O’Donnell nodded gravely. “I don’t hate it.”
“Bear that in mind when you are still climbing the walls in the middle of gamma shift. There’s at least two full pots worth of caffeine in there. Honestly, I think my mother meant it as a challenge, or a way to break my addiction, once and for all.”
O’Donnell rose from his seat. “That explains more about you than I suspect you anticipated revealing.” Shifting gears, he continued, “I do have one request to make, Admiral.”
“Yes?”
“Before we depart this area of space, I intend, that is, I hope to safely contain at least some of the Edrehmaia substance for future experiments.”
“I understand and share your curiosity, but I will not permit any of the substance to be stored aboard our vessels until I am satisfied that it can be safely contained.”
“I have already begun analyzing the fragments that were used to contain the substance at Station One. As soon as I am done, may I have your permission to locate a source for extraction?”
“One step at a time, Commander.”
“Understood, Admiral.” After a moment he said, “Assuming we do find the Edrehmaia and are able to retrieve our lost ship, what’s next?”
“There’s still lots of Delta Quadrant to explore,” she reminded him.
“Always,” he agreed.
“You seem less than enthusiastic at the prospect.”
O’Donnell lifted his shoulders, and they remained stuck as he replied, “For my part, I will hope for better things.” As he crossed to the door, he added, “Thank you, Admiral.”
He departed without a backward glance, leaving the admiral to ponder the curious man who had become one of this mission’s most perplexing revelations.
VOYAGER
Lieutenant Devi Patel found Voyager’s pilot, Ensign Gwyn, seated in a corner of the mess hall across from Kenth Lasren and made a beeline toward them.
When the pair took notice of her arrival, Lasren seemed embarrassed. Gwyn dropped her chin quickly and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“I’m interrupting,” Patel realized too late.
“No, it’s fine,” Gwyn said, starting to rise.
“Don’t go, I need you,” Patel said quickly.
Lasren exchanged a meaningful glance with Gwyn. It made Patel feel even more the odd man out. “It’s up to you,” he said.
Gwyn stared at Patel for a moment, then nodded faintly. Lasren pulled up an empty chair from the nearest table. Patel took it, saying, “Thank you.”
Awkward silence hovered until Lasren, clearly anxious to build a bridge, said, “Aytar and I have been talking about empathy, specifically psionic empathy.”
It was the last thing Patel expected to hear. “Why? Gwyn’s never had that, has she?” It came out far more dismissive than Patel intended, and she noticed Gwyn recoil slightly.
“Everybody has empathy,” Lasren said. “Except maybe sociopaths.”
“I was talking about the psionic part,” Patel added hastily. Wondering if this was connected to Gwyn’s earlier question about loving someone, she suddenly realized she might have just inserted herself into a deeply personal conversation.
Lasren as a potential partner for Gwyn had never crossed Patel’s radar. He seemed much too bright and sensitive to knowingly engage in meaningless hookups, but then, one never knew. Patel’s interactions with him since the away mission had been entirely professional. There had been moments, especially when she awakened in sickbay to find him by her bedside, when she had wondered if something more might be possible between them. But
