Protocols Unknown: A Decision of The Stars

Lines We Cross

Varen laughed once—short, sharp, but hollow.

"You think you frighten me?"

Janeway finally spoke, her voice quiet. Measured.

"Not yet."

She turned slightly, enough for Tuvok to see her expression—composed, cold.

"Come, Commander. We've heard enough lies for one day."

Without waiting for a reply, she pivoted on her heel and left the brig, the doors hissing shut behind her with a finality that made the air feel heavier.

Tuvok lingered half a second longer, regarding Varen without a shred of pity.

"You will regret your silence," he said simply.

Then he followed Janeway out, leaving Varen alone in a cage that suddenly felt much smaller.

By late shift, Voyager had fallen into an uneasy rhythm again.

Janeway stood alone in her ready room, facing the stars. And when the chime finally rang, it was soft. Too soft.

The door slid open. Tuvok entered with his usual precision, but there was a delay before he spoke. Just enough time for a Vulcan to acknowledge emotional devastation without naming it.

"You requested to see me, Captain."

Janeway kept her back to him, facing the viewport where the stars stretched and blurred. Her voice was low. "I need your assessment of something."

Tuvok stepped closer, silent, waiting.

Janeway closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself, then spoke. "Kashyk said something to me. About Astrea. He thinks... she might be more than we realize."

Tuvok showed no outward reaction. "In what regard?"

"Telepathy," Janeway said, her voice barely more than a breath. "He said he could feel it. That he recognized it."

She turned to face him fully now, hands setting firmly on the back of her chair, knuckles white against the dark material. "Is it possible? Could you sense it?"

Tuvok inclined his head slightly. "If I may?"

Janeway stepped aside without a word.

Tuvok approached Astrea, who was asleep on the couch, small and curled under a replicated blanket. He extended two fingers in a delicate gesture above the child's forehead, not touching, just feeling. A Vulcan technique, one designed for the subtlest impressions.

Janeway held her breath.

After a long moment, Tuvok withdrew his hand and straightened.

"You requested a confirmation, Captain," he said.

Janeway nodded tightly. "I wanted you to tell me I'm wrong."

"You are not," Tuvok said.

She closed her eyes again, a wave of something breaking against her ribs.

"The child exhibits neural variance consistent with pre-conscious telepathic projection," Tuvok continued, voice even but quieter now. "Her readings fluctuate in proximity to emotional catalysts."

Janeway inhaled slowly, almost losing the sound under the hum of the ship. "Kashyk didn't guess."

Tuvok's brow lifted by the smallest margin. "He did not guess. He observed."

Janeway opened her eyes, tired but focused. "And what do we do now?"

Tuvok regarded her with calm certainty. "We protect her. As we would any crew member. As you always have."