Star Trek: Voyager - The Neverending Night
Chapter 1
13 Sep 2021“Citizens of Earth! Your destiny is now in my hands!”
The evil Dr. CHAOTICA let out a bellowing laugh as he traipsed back and forth through the room. Tall, slender, and sporting a dark black goatee, CHAOTICA was as cunning as he was cruel. He was dressed in a full black robe adorned with bright grey lightning bolts on the shoulders. He spoke into a metallic silver ball microphone which he held in one hand. In his other, he whipped the attached electrical cable to his side with a thunderous crack. He spoke in a slow menacing tone, callously inviting anyone foolish enough to interrupt him to do so.
“Those of you who acquiesce to my demands will be treated fairly.” He said with a raise of his eyebrow. “Oppose me, and you face a dire fate indeed. As you join my rank of slaves in the mines of Mercury!”
From the other side of the rocket control room, Buster Kincaid strained against ropes that bound him to his chair. Kincaid wondered how he had let CHAOTICA outmaneuver him yet again. In one fell swoop, CHAOTICA had infiltrated the rocket ship, seized its controls and was now threatening to fire its weapons on the innocent people of Earth.
Kincaid spared a look to his side to see how Constance Goodheart was fairing. She was also bound in the chair next to him, dressed in a revealing white dress which complimented her long blonde hair and fair complexion. She returned his look with one of desperation, but remained silent, waiting for Kincaid to act.
“You’ll never get away with this Chaotica.” Kincaid protested.
A smile crept across CHAOTICA’s face, amused by the helpless Kincaid. “Oh, but I shall.” He declared. “Your once proud country will fall to its knees.” He made a slight twirl as raised his hands up and gestured to the ceiling above. “How ironic, that I am using your rocket ship to lead my space force into battle!”
Kincaid searched around the room for a solution. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a figure rise up on the other side of the airlock window. Now it was Kincaid’s turn to crack a smile. “You’re wrong, Chaotica. Before you came on board, I turned the broadcaster to full volume. Everyone, from here to Pluto, has been listening in and knows exactly where we are.”
“What?!” CHAOTICA shouted. “NO!”
Suddenly, the airlock door snapped open with a hiss of rushing air and the man stepped inside. “The jig is up, your Majesty.” He proclaimed.
CHAOTICA instantly recognized his arch-nemesis. “Captain Proton.” He said derisively
The heroic Captain Proton stepped forward. He wore a brand new bomber jacket, khaki dress pants, a silver jetpack on his back with aviator goggles strapped to his forehead. He brandished a bronze tipped Earth standard-issue raygun which he leveled at CHAOTICA as he approached. “Spaceman First Class, Protector of Earth, Scourge of Intergalactic Evil.” He paused to bow his head slightly. “At your service.”
“But I saw you fall into the fiery mouth of that volcano!” CHAOTICA barked as he backed away slowly.
“Ha! It takes more than a little lava to stop Captain Proton.” Proton said as he moved over to Kincaid and Goodheart. He leaned down and untied the two of them before continuing. “Now, I want you to call off your invasion and give me back my rocket ship.”
CHAOTICA seemingly on the backfoot, let out another conniving laugh. “Ah, but you forget, there is one force in this universe that not even you can defeat!”
A deep mechanical rumbling thundered from behind Kincaid. Then suddenly, the trap door to the control room swung open to reveal the Doctor.
“AHHHH!” Constance Goodheart shrieked at the top of her lungs at the sight of him.
“My thoughts exactly.” The Doctor retorted dryly as he stepped into the room.
“Doc?” Tom Paris said, now dropping the Captain Proton persona.
“Mr. Paris.” The Doctor started. “I should have known it was you monopolizing the holodeck.”
Harry Kim, now having been taken out of his role as Buster Kincaid, noted how out of place The Doctor looked here. The whole holodeck simulation, designed to replicate the pulp space television shows of the early twentieth century, had rendered all of its colors in monochrome greyscale. The Doctor, on the other hand, with his science division uniform and its unmistakably bright blue colored shoulders, stood out like a sore thumb.
“Who is this insolent fool?” CHAOTICA inquired, obviously expecting someone else.
Kim, being quick on his feet, had an idea. “He’s one of our men. Computer?” He said waiting for the customary bleep of acknowledgement from the Voyager main computer. “Adjust the EMH’s spectral frequency to the monochrome scale.”
With a quick shimmer, the holographic doctor phased out of and back into existence. However, this time the bright blue of his uniform and the fair skin on his face and bald head turned into various shades of grey, which now matched the rest of the room. “I have no interest in taking part in your fantasies of frivolity.” The Doctor protested. “I am here to rehearse a duet from Don Carlo and you’ve already gone three minutes into my scheduled-”
“Enough!” CHAOTICA exclaimed. “Robot, attack!”
From behind the Doctor, the Robot appeared. It was cylindrical in shape, a few inches taller than the Doctor himself. It had clamp shaped metal hands at the end of long scrunchy arms, box-like feet, a small black slit near where its face would be, and a control panel attached to its chest. It walked with a slow awkward gait, as if perpetually off balance.
“AHHH!” Goodheart shrieked again, as if on cue.
The Doctor rolled his eyes, having long since been fed up with the situation in which he now found himself. “Computer, freeze programme.” A beep of acknowledgement sounded above. Everything in the room except for the Doctor, Tom Paris and Harry Kim froze instantly in place.
“Doc, this is the final chapter.” Paris pleaded as he stepped up to the Doctor. “Satan’s Robot Conquers the World. We can’t just stop now.”
“Does the phrase ‘To Be Continued…’ mean anything to you?” The Doctor retorted.
“Your opera can wait. Computer?” Paris started.
“This programme is a waste of photonic energy. There is no value to spending your time here except to indulge in your immature flights of fancy” The Doctor interrupted before Paris could finish.
“Oh really? There is plenty of value to this. Take a look around you.” Paris implored, gesturing to the simulated room and characters around him. “No advanced computers. No transporters. No warp drive. The value is in how the people of twentieth century Earth saw the future. We are deep in our study of historical sociology.”
Kim winced at Paris’ argument. Even he had to admit that what Paris was saying was a bit of a stretch.
“Well then, perhaps your efforts would be better spent outlining a new course for Starfleet Academy. Satan’s Robot: An Historical Overview” The Doctor said without skipping a beat. “But for now, your time is up. Computer, end programme.” The Doctor declared.
The rocket ship control room, the Robot, Constance Goodheart and CHAOTICA all shimmered out of existence. What was left were the drab, utilitarian walls filled with cables and holoprojectors which demarcated the edges of the hologrid.
“You can’t just waltz in here and shut down someone else’s programme while they’re still running it.” Paris protested. “Computer, resume programme.”
Once again the room around the trio shimmered, but this time the holodeck walls were replaced by the rocket ship and all the characters of the programme, just where they had left off.
“Again, your time is up.” The Doctor stated. “Computer, end programme.” The room began to shimmer.
“Computer, resume programme.” The room began to shimmer again.
The two continued back and forth for a few moments, dematerializing and rematerializing the programme. Kim tried to interrupt, but before he could, there was a loud pop in one of the hologrid control panels, followed by some smoke and finally the entire room lost power, leaving the three standing in darkness.
Kim breathed a sigh. “Well I hope the two of you are happy.”
On the overhead PA system, a voice rang throughout the holodeck. “Bridge to holodeck one.” Kim recognized it as Commander Chakotay’s voice. “What’s going on down there?”
“Oh, nothing Commander.” Kim responded. “Just a little power surge.”
On the bridge, Commander Chakotay analyzed the numbers and data that scrolled through on his display console next to his seat on the bridge. “Says here you just blew out the hologrid in holodeck one.” He said.
Kim’s voice replied over the intercom “Don’t worry, we’re fixing it now, sir.”
“Don’t take too long Harry. The last thing we need right now is a broken holodeck.” With that Chakotay closed the channel.
Under normal circumstances, a broken holodeck wouldn’t be cause for alarm, but Voyager was not under normal circumstances. Commander Chakotay surveyed the room around him. The bridge crew was sparse. The only stations that were manned right now were OPS and helm. Chakotay didn’t have to get up and look to know that the officers who manned them weren’t doing much. The bridge lighting had been dimmed down to conserve energy. The science and engineering stations were shut down and had been that way for some time now. After all, what was the point of monitoring sensors when they hadn’t encountered anything significant for weeks?
When Chakotay finished his impromptu survey, he realized that he had avoided looking at the viewscreen, for it made him too uncomfortable. He forced his eyes forward. The viewscreen was black, totally empty and devoid of feature. In any other circumstance, he would have wondered if it was simply off or malfunctioning, but he knew it wasn’t. Normally it was filled with dots of stars or the bright colorful swath of the occasional nebula. But now, it displayed nothing. As painful as it was to look at, there was one other sight on the bridge that pained him even more. For, while there was nothing he could do about the lack of stars, there was something he could do about the other issue, though he had been avoiding it for some time now.
From behind him, he could hear the characteristic hum of the turbolift slowing to a halt. After a moment, the doors opened with a swishing sound. Chakotay stood up and turned in time to see Seven of Nine step onto the bridge. As usual, she wore her blonde hair in a very formal bun. She never wore a starfleet uniform; rather she was dressed in a form fitting epidermal suit which today was colored dark brown. Having been freed from the Borg, the suit had helped her skin heal from the trauma of having her cybernetic implants removed. Though one piece of her ocular implant remained, which covered her left eyebrow.
Chakotay noted that she carried a small flat silver Personal Access Display Device with her. The PADD most likely contained her latest astrometric telemetry report. “Seven, I want good news.” He said. “That’s an order.”
Seven stepped around the railing that separated the aft end of the bridge from the fore. “I cannot comply. There is no good news to report.” She handed the PADD to Chakotay. “I have completed my astrometric survey of the surrounding region. There are no star systems within two hundred and fifty light years of our current position.”
Chakotay looked down at the PADD, which he was sure confirmed the report she just gave him. “Nothing?”
“Nothing.” Seven said coldly.
“What about the theta radiation? Have we detected the source yet?” Chakotay asked.
“Negative. Although the average radiative flux continues to increase along our current heading.”
“So we’re still moving toward the source?”
“Presumably. Although I cannot confirm that.” Seven’s answers had a tendency to be short and direct. Efficient, as she would put it, the overarching doctrine of Borg behavior.
“Are there any other ships out there?” Chakotay inquired further.
“Unknown. The increased levels of theta radiation are beginning to occlude our short range sensors. But so far, none have been detected.”
Chakotay shook his head in frustration. “Stranded, with no wind in our sails.” He said under his breath.
“Commander?” Seven asked, confused.
Chakotay took a step toward the viewscreen. “It feels like we’ve been becalmed in the middle of the ocean, with no wind to help us reach the shore.” He paused for a moment, then looked back at Seven. “Two months in this empty pocket of space and it feels like the crew is already at its limits. How are we supposed to last out here?”
“We will adapt.” Seven replied. Adaptation, the other hallmark of Borg behavior.
“That may be easy for the Borg to do, but not so easy for us.”
Feeling that she had nothing else to add, Seven merely asked. “Shall I inform the Captain of my findings?”
The Captain.
Chakotay finally looked down to the seat right beside his own. Empty, as it had been for weeks now. Normally, if the Captain was not on the bridge, she was in her ready room. But Chakotay knew she wasn’t there. Ever since they had entered this region of space, the Captain had been different, uneasy, troubled. Finally, she had sequestered herself in her quarters and never came back out. Chakotay had been meaning to talk to the Captain about her behavior, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. What could he possibly say to her? He had avoided the confrontation for as long as he could, but now he felt that he could not put it off any longer.
“No.” Chakotay said. “I’ll tell her.”